


Touch and Taste

by LadyIrina



Series: The Mandalorian, his son and the Storm Trooper [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Corin has a severe weakness for praise, Din gets very handsy, Frottage, M/M, Made For Each Other, Touch-Starved, Touching, all sorts of adult sexy activities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22789363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina
Summary: Din gets permission to touch.Corin wants him to touch.So there is a lot of touching. Some tasting. And feelings.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Corin Valentis, Din/Corin
Series: The Mandalorian, his son and the Storm Trooper [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560925
Comments: 631
Kudos: 1513





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This GLORIOUS art scorched the eyebrows right off my face and I have never been more pleased.  
> Writing this chapter was a lot more difficult than I anticipated, with these two walking disasters being so difficult, but thanks to Cac0daemonia and this AMAZING piece of art; I got the inspiration and courage to finally finish chapter 1 and launch the beginning of the 'Missing Smutty Scenes'!
> 
>   
>  [](https://imgbb.com/)   
>    
> 

The cargo door opens and the relief that hits Din when he sees Corin is so strong he feels dizzy for a moment. Stepping inside, closing the door after himself, Din walks towards the other man, notes that the door to the child's compartment is closed and the Beskar armor is carefully stacked next to Corin. “So this is where you and the kid disappeared to. I've been looking all over the town for you. Didn't you like the room back there?”

Corin's broad back remains a dismissive front and he shows no signs of moving. “I thought you'd want some privacy.” He mutters. Clearly angry.

Din closes his eyes briefly, sending another mental curse at Zev'sonya and her idiotic plan. Her plan which had just made everything worse. “It was just a bad joke from her, Corin. That's all.” Din kneels down behind him, aching to reach out and touch Corin's shoulder in some stupid need to really make sure he was okay, that this wasn't some dream and he had been brought to die at Nedar's hands once more. Din would not survive seeing Corin like that again. “But you can't just disappear like that. I thought something had happened to you. You can't do that to me. Please...”

Corin finally looks back over his shoulder at the Mandalorian. His remarkable eyes flicker with guilt, as if the thought that he might make Din worry hadn't struck him. “Sorry...” He says quietly.

Din doesn't want him to feel guilty. Ever. Others have made Corin feel that far too many times already. “Hey, you two are safe and unharmed. That's what is important.”

Corin frowns a little at the reply, clearly not completely placated and still not overly keen on Din's presence there. “So, uh, shouldn't you be heading back to them?”

“No, I...” Din glances over at the door, knowing he probably should leave, it's obviously what Corin wants, but the fear of finding him gone has left a mark and he doesn't want to let Corin out of his sight right now. He gathers his courage and looks back at Corin again, hoping he isn't angry enough to shoot Din down when he asks; “Can I stay here? With you?”

Turning to stare at the wall again, Corin's voice is flat. “Of course.” 

Well, it's not a refusal and that is something.  
Din carefully settles behind him, inching as close as he dares, even going as far as placing a light hand on Corin's right bicep. He just needs to anchor himself and know Corin is really there.  
“Tomorrow,” Din says, “I want you to stay on the ship with the kid. There's going to be some fighting, so me and Zev'sonya will deal with it. Mose is going to be our back-up, they'd see him a mile away if we tried to bring him, but I doubt we'll need him. Zev'sonya can fight pretty well if she has do and she seems highly motivated right now. Nothing motivates like revenge.” Corin hates it when he can't watch Din's back, so Din hopes he can at least soothe his worries on this subject and not make things _even_ worse between them.

There is a moment of silence, a moment where Din hopes Corin considers his words and takes them to heart, possibly easing his concerns when he can't come with them tomorrow, but any kind of rational thinking inside Din's head goes flying out the ship when Corin suddenly reaches up, takes a hold of Din's wrist and tugs his hand down and in front of him. Din's brain is not half-way through flailing at this when Corin slides his thumb under Din's glove and draws his finger over the oh so sensitive skin there.

Din hears himself exhale a faint and broken sound as his entire existence is suddenly reduced to that contact. He has felt the ghost-touch, the echo of that first touch, countless times, but as enticing as that had been, nothing compares to the actual sensation of Corin's skin against his.

“I don't doubt her motivation, I just don't understand why you want her.” Corin mutters with clear distaste, then he leans down and places his mouth to Din's wrist.

It feels like electricity shoots up Din's arm, like someone punched him in the belly and left him stunned. It fees like someone just took a sledgehammer to Din's libido.  
First Corin's lips just linger there, a hot brand against the thin skin separating them from Din's racing pulse, but then he feels them move, press lightly, kissing, caressing...

Despite the air filter in the helmet, suddenly Din feels like he can't get enough oxygen, as if the air itself has caught fire, and his own lips part with silent and desperate breaths.  
It's not enough. That burning sensation of Corin's mouth against his skin. It's nowhere near enough.  
Din pulls his hand away to hurriedly tug off his glove. He then slides his bare hand back to carefully touch Corin's, hoping he can be forgiven for wanting this, for needing this so badly.

  
“I don't want her.” Din needs Corin to know that. He couldn't care less about Zev'sonya. He hasn't looked twice at a soul since he looked into the eyes of a kneeling Storm Trooper and was persuaded to save his life.  
His fingers shift over to Corin's left hand, which is merely lying on the covers, palm up, passive. Starting by the wrist, Din slides his fingers up over the palm until the digits touch by Corin's fingers and he gently eases them into braiding with his. He squeezes his hand lightly, brushing his thumb over Corin's skin because he's unable to stop touching.  
“Is this okay?” Din asks, a little uncertain as Corin really hasn't reacted at all.

“Y-yeah... It's fine.” Corin moves his fingers, finally, then carefully squeezes Din's hand in return. “I just...” He seems to be looking for the right words. “If you tell me what you want, I could...”

- _You. I want you. I've always wanted you, even before I met you. And I only wanted you more after meeting you._ Din's internal voice replies, but he knows he can't say it out loud. It's too much. But he can't lie. “If you want to do something for me,” Din says, “then just be you.”

Corin actually twists to look back over his shoulder at him. “What?”

He looks so bewildered, his beautiful face expressing his confusion at Din's words, and the thoughtful twist to his exquisite mouth makes it impossible to resist. Din lets go of his hand and reaches up to cup the side of Corin's face instead, brushing this thumb over the lush lower lip, feeling the soft give under his touch, seeing the blackness of Corin's pupils dilate, and it takes everything Din has to keep quiet.

Corin moves over on his back, his right arm trapped between them as his shoulder is pressed against Din's breastplate, and doesn't seem to mind the proximity. “I'm serious.” Corin's voice sounds a little breathless. “Tell me what you want.”

“What do I want?” Din trails his fingers along Corin's jawline, his eyebrow, the curve of his chin, admiring the perfection, lost in his hunger for more, to touch more. He remember with sharp clarity the sight of Corin getting undressed earlier. He remembers the sight of him running around in nothing but a damn towel. He remembers every glimpse he's had of that strong and oh so tempting body. “I really want to touch you. Do you want that?”  
His fingertips dwell for a moment on Corin's lips, delaying his answer to add; “If you don't, tell me no. I'm not going to be angry. I promise. Trust me. You're allowed to say no, remember?”  
As much as he wants him, as much as Din wants this, he wants even more for Corin to want it too. They will not do this simply because Corin doesn't mind, not because he thinks it will please Din, but because Corin feels the same heat and hunger that Din does. If he doesn't, then this never has to happen.

The second the fingers lifts, Corin wets his lips and he only hesitates for a brief moment before making his choice; wringing off his shirt, throwing it carelessly away and placing Din's hand to his chest. “Yes.”

The feeling of all that warm, smooth skin against his palm, the muscles quivering under it, it makes Din's brain short-circuit for several heart beats. His gaze flickers over the bare torso, all that skin offered up to him, so much perfection, and it takes even longer for him to realize that he's actually allowed to touch. He's just been given permission.  
A quick glance up at Corin's face finds no trace of reluctant acceptance or indifference, only nervous anticipation, and Din begins to touch that glorious skin he has been lusting after far longer than he'd care to admit.

-

After wringing off his shirt like that, Corin has a moment of embarrassment. What was he thinking? Offering himself up like this, sounding so desperate? Corin is about to apologize when Din's fingers spread wide to touch as much skin as possible and he can feel the Mandalorian shudder with barely restrained hunger as he slowly slides his hand up Corin's chest. Oh. Oh, that... that is enticing.

It's not the first time someone has put their hands on Corin with lust thick in the air. While sex is not something he has overindulged in, he's been horny, bored or curious and sometimes all three at once in the past. But he has never experienced anything like this.  
He's never _wanted_ like this. He's never been wanted like this, either. With such devouring attention.  
Din has barely put his hands on him and Corin can already feel his blood rushing south of his brain.  
_Finally!_ Corin's body screams.

The touch moves up to his chin, the fingertips runs across the day's worth of scruff there, lingers on his throat for a moment, trailing a pattern that it takes far too long for Corin to realize are the bruises left from Mose's grip, Din must feel the rapid thrum of Corin's carotid artery, and Corin trembles. His neck has always been his weak spot. He clenches his jaw, tries to keep quiet, but he finds himself digging his right-hand fingers into Din's leather-armor by his stomach and holding on hard, while the left hand restlessly clutches at the improvised bed-covers.

It doesn't get any easier when the touch slides back down again and moves along the once broken collarbone. What had been causing Corin so much pain now tingles in the wake of those fingertips. It makes sense; Din has always made everything in Corin's life better.  
A sudden and sharp jolt of pleasure shoots through Corin when Din's hand moves to explore his pectoral muscles and he draws a deliberate caress over the nipple, causing Corin to arch his back a little and a surprised gasp to escape his lips before he can prevent it. It might have been a little embarrassing if not for how his reaction makes Din's entire body shudder in turn.  
Everything about the Mandalorian radiates want. _Need._

Corin's own body can't seem to decide on whether to take quick, shallow mouthfuls of air or hold his breath all together when Din's fingertips maps every dip and curve of Corin's abs, slowly working his way down with an intoxicating sense of appreciation bordering on obsessive.  
Corin reaches up from the covers and finds instead an anchoring hold on the cloth just under where Din's right pauldron ends, knows there is skin and muscles he wants to touch under the layers, but he fails to express his wish as his mind white-outs at the sensation of Din's hand now spanning the width at the top of Corin's right thigh, his fingertips pressing lightly into the inner muscles, a tantalizing pressure below where he wants it the most.

“So perfect...” Din mumbles, like it is confirmation of a long established fact, like Corin is worthy of such praise, and Corin now has to bite his lower lip to stay quiet. And when Din takes a hold of Corin's hip and urges him to move, he eagerly obeys, first over on his side and then onto his stomach under the soft praise of; “Every inch of you, so perfect.”

Exhaling into the covers, Corin then closes his eyes at finally having something against where he's hard and eager, even the flimsy bedding and the unforgiving floor feels pretty damn good right now, giving him some delicious friction, but then two bare hands are sliding up his back and it makes him realize that Din has shed his other glove as well. This is nearly enough to undo him. Corin suffocates a groan into the covers and uses every ounce of his strength to force his stuttering hips still. 

“So good. Gorgeous.” Din's voice caresses him every bit as much as his hands.

He feels Din's trailing a far too gentle touch down his nape, still so vulnerable and sensitive after the short hair cut, and it makes him shudder. He is pathetically grateful for the more solid grip the man takes on his shoulders, digging slightly into the muscles, testing the strength there, before he does the same with Corin's biceps. When he moves to Corin lower arms, leaning over to place his hands over Corin's hands where they are clenching at the covers up by his shoulders, there is a brush of a hardness to Corin's hip that reveals just how much Din is enjoying this as well.

The Mandalorian freezes at the contact, uncertain, hesitates, which makes no kind of sense. Everything about him already screams quite delightfully that he wants to devour Corin alive, so why doesn't he? It takes Corin several long seconds to realize that Din is actually waiting for confirmation that this is okay, like Din broke some unspoken agreement by getting too close. Because Din had only asked for permission to touch?

Corin feels another surge of want and gives in to it. Instead of thinking, he moves, leans into Din, uses his hip to add encouraging pressure to the hardness there, and the breathless sound Din makes will linger forever in Corin's memories.

  
Softly whispered praise, hands sliding restlessly over his skin and trailing every curve of every muscle in his back and shoulders and arms, a silent worship, it's enough to drive Corin insane.  
Sex has always been either rushed or something of a business deal for him. Either something you had to hurry so not to get caught or a 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine'-situation. This? This feels nothing like that. This feels like Din will die if he doesn't get to touch his skin, and it is both confusing and arousing as hell.

When Din's helmet move down to gently press against the back of his shoulder, knowing he'd feel Din's lips if not for the damn Beskar, Corin actually whimpers and digs his fingers even harder into the covers before he blindly reaches back and manages by pure good luck to get a hold of Din's hip, pulling him closer, because Corin needs more now. He wants more.  
A distant part of Corin's brain tries to point out that he's not allowed to ask for more, someone like him doesn't get to ask for more and should be happy with whatever is given to him, but his aching dick doesn't care and easily overrides his brain.

Din responds by taking a hold of Corin's hip in return and pulls him back up on his side, Corin's back now against Din's front, leaving them pressed against each other in a way that has Corin even more breathless.  
He can't help himself and rolls his hips a little to allow himself to revel in the feeling of how much Din wants him. It feels so good that he does it again. The way Din's fingers grip his hip so hard it almost hurts during the third roll makes it even better. It's on the fourth roll that he feels Din's hips pushing back and Corin can hear himself make a sound that probably belongs in one of those shady films that always made him blush. How is it that this clothed rutting has Corin more turned on than most of his sexual encounters?

Din's hand moves up his throat, takes a hold of his jaw and makes him look back at him while they breathe and move together. He slides his hand further up and draws his thumb over Corin's lower lip again.  
“You are so beautiful.” Din murmurs breathlessly, voice shaking with tension. “So beautiful.”

Knowing things can be said in the heat of the moment that isn't necessarily true, Corin doesn't care. He wants to believe Din means it. Other people have complimented Corin on his looks, some have tried to mock him for it, but Din's words makes him feel good. Makes him _feel_ beautiful.  
Corin parts his lips and wraps them around the tip of Din's thumb, gets to give the digit one light flick with his tongue and feel the hard twitch in Din's hips, before Din pulls his hand away. There is no time for Corin to wonder if he did something wrong as half a second after that, Din is using said hand to undo Corin's belt with impatient and clumsy movements.

Just feeling him so close to where he wants to be touched has Corin trembling with anticipation, unable to believe this is really happening and terrified he'll wake up at any moment to find it had all been just a dream. Bad luck can't be that cruel, can it? It has taken everything else from Corin in his life, can he at least be allowed this?  
Once the belt is undone and his pants are opened, Corin feels Din hesitate once again.

The Mandalorian leans in to place a Keldabe kiss to Corin's sweaty temple. “Are you sure you want this? You. Not me. Do _you_ want this?” His voice is broken and shaky with want.

Corin reaches down and pulls Din's hand back up. He might not know what this will mean for their partnership, he might not understand why Din would want to sully his hands with someone like Corin, but Corin knows one thing; he most definitely want this.

Din exhales sharply, shudders, when Corin draws his tongue over Din's palm, once, twice, wetting the skin nicely, then gathers his courage before moving it down again in an unspoken request.  
Din does not hesitate after that. He reaches down, pushes under the clothing and finally wraps his fingers around Corin in a gentle and almost reverent move.

The touch is so longed for that Corin's hips automatically jerks into it, another moan breaks free from his lips and he reaches back to grab a hold of Din's hip to anchor himself. And when Din's hand begins to move, cautiously, curiously, Corin knows his grip on Din's hip will leave bruises.

-

“So perfect...” Din murmurs, a little dazed, drawing more moans out of Corin with his hand, especially with an exploratory swipe of his thumb. He wants to linger, wants to draw it out, can't believe he's allowed this, but he also notes the urgency in Corin's hips. “So good for me.” A compromise then. A little longer, but not too long. He may indulge a little, but this is about Corin. “You're so perfect.”  
Though, the way Corin keeps grinding back against him... If he keeps this up for much longer, Din might beat him to the finish line. It's been too long since Din bedded someone and he can't even remember a time when his heart was in on it as well.

He concentrates on making Corin feel good, focuses on the hardness in his hand and how to touch him in the way he likes, learning every reaction to every caress and every whispered word.  
It doesn't take much before Corin is either pushing forward into his hand or pushing his ass back against Din, both acts with a hungry urgency that keeps building until his breaths have a touch of voice at every exhale. His fingers have a death-grip on Din's hip. He's close. Really close.

Choking on a curse, sweating and desperate, Corin leans back against him with his shoulders as well as his hips, needing the support. “I... I'm...”

“I got you.” Din says, giving a light twist with his hand and nearly comes in his pants at the choked whine it tears up from Corin's throat along with a hard twitch of his hips. “You're so beautiful like this. Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”

With a gasp, Corin does.

Din can't take his eyes off him. The stunned surprise in Corin's eyes, the parted lips, the almost pained expression on his face, the sweat making his skin shine, the locks of hair swaying with his trembling frame, the curve of his throat and the hard shudders that run through his body until they ease into gentle shivers. Beautiful.  
So beautiful that Corin is still trembling through the aftershocks when Din claws at his own pants and pulls himself out barely in time to touch before he's coming helplessly into the covers with the oh so fresh memory of Corin's skin under his touch and his glorious release replaying in his mind.  
The pleasure is sharp, sweet and forces Din to clench his jaw until it hurts to keep quiet, feels a drop of sweat run down from his nape and can't control the primitive jerks of his hips during the moments of euphoria. 

When the pleasure eases, it leaves the lust slightly sated, for now at least, and he automatically hugs Corin closer. Feeling Corin's light touch to his arm, Din places a light kov'nyn on top of Corin's shoulder, hoping he hasn't messed up things between them. “Good?”

Corin, still on his side, still dazed, nods and says with a faint smile. “Good.” He sounds... relaxed, for once, despite still catching his breath.

Din allows himself a smile as well. “Good.” He confirms.

What is not good is the mess they've made and they deal with it with embarrassed laughs, knowing this was the behavior of teenagers not grown men, but Din can't quite get himself to regret it. Neither of them had much of a childhood and their teenage years had been more about killing than getting laid, so he figures they're entitled to a little catching up.

That is Din's excuse for throwing Corin's shirt further away as Corin asks for it while in the middle of hoisting his pants back up. Corin pauses as he's just about to button his pants and sends Din a comical look of confusion. He looks so downright cute and perfectly disheveled that Din has to shove him back down on the covers, slither up next to him and slide his hand up that magnificent chest again. “You said I could touch.”

Corin draws a shivering breath, both surprised and shyly pleased. “Yes.” He looks like he wants to add something more to that, but his gaze darts away and he bites his lower lip instead.

Din swallows hard, realizing just how much he wants to taste those lips, how he wants to feel them against his own, but he pushes the urge away. He merely focuses on what is allowed; touching.  
Corin's skin is so lovely, it feels so good, the soft over the hard muscles. And Din could spend hours finding every sensitive spot there is. Especially when Corin's hand comes up to touch his arm, his other hand tentatively on Din's back, and a trusting and beautiful smile appears on Corin's lips.  
Din can barely breathe as he's hit once again with how much he loves him.

-

- _Always_ , Corin wants to say. - _You will always have my permission to touch me._  
While he'd come so hard he suspected he died and came back to life again, and he'd kill for them to do that again, there is no denying that the way Din touched him, keeps touching, with awe and with greed, was equally as breathtaking. It makes Corin feel like everyone who had claimed he was worthless had been wrong.  
Only someone as magnificent and perfect like Din could make someone like Corin feel like that.

He moves his hand a little to let his thumb brush over the bare skin on Din's lower arm, unable to resist the golden skin, caresses the warm smoothness, and sends a silent prayer of thanks to good luck for giving him this night.  
At one point, Din's hand searches out Corin's hand and it feels dangerously natural how easily their fingers braid together, like two halves of a whole.  
Corin can't stop smiling and some fragile part of his soul whispers that Din might be smiling too.

For a moment, they are allowed to just linger in a perfect bubble of bliss. For a moment they are allowed to be happy and content.

Eventually they do end up hunting for Corin's shirt, re-arranging the covers and making themselves presentable while still acting like giddy children.  
It's not fair that Din's helmet gets to cover his face as Corin feels his face flush every time the Mandalorian glances over at him, but he does hear the broad smile in Din's voice when he speaks.  
“We should get some sleep.”

Corin flushes again and nods. He crawls over the make-shift bed again, making sure to leave room for Din in case he wants to stay and not sleep in his pilot-seat like he sometimes will, and has to bite his lower lip again to keep quiet when he feels Din curl up close to him.

It's not the first time they share a bed, but it is the first time Corin falls asleep with Din's hand in his and his heart in Din's hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More touching.  
> Some tasting.

“But... why?” Corin asks, lost as to why anyone would ever love him and it breaks Din's heart.

“Because you're you.” There is no other way Din can phrase it because it would take him hours to hold Corin down and list up everything he loves about him and a lifetime to make him believe it.

Corin pushes himself up into a sitting position and looks at Din, really looks at him, his remarkable eyes scanning him for several heartbeats before he suddenly moves up to straddle Din's thighs.  
Din inhales sharply, torn between a jab of lust and surprise. His hands automatically come up to grab a hold of Corin's hips as Corin reaches up and gently cups the Beskar helmet between his hands. “Then I can consider myself the luckiest man in the galaxy.” Corin says.

The words makes Din dizzy with hope, but still... “Corin, you don't have to...” Din's hands shifts their grip on Corin's hips, restless and fighting against the urge to pull him close. He needs to know. He has to know Corin isn't doing this because he still feels obliged to him. Din wants this so much, wants him so damn much, but he wants Corin to want this even more. He can't do this if this isn't Corin's choice. The night on the Razor Crest could be explained away, a one time thing, heat of the moment, but twice? That meant something else. “This doesn't mean you have to...”

Corin leans forward, closes his eyes, places his forehead to Din's helmet. “But I want to, ner kar'ta.”

Din shudders at the sound of Mando'a from Corin's lips. It's like something out of his dreams. It causes the lust to spread through his veins and makes his hope even stronger. It gives him courage. “Am I? Gar kar'ta?” Your heart?

Corin's voice is calm and even. “Until every star in every galaxy has burned out and faded away.”

Was it possible? Could Corin feel for him what he had carried with him for such a long time? Din pulls him closer, hugs him, can't not, slides his hands over his back, his arms, in silent worship. He just feels so good in his arms. Perfect. Always perfect. Perfectly perfect. Perfectly imperfect.  
Din's reverie is broken when Corin leans back and he is about to make a weak sound of objection, he needs him close, but then Corin wrings off his shirt, offers up his skin with a nervous;”Please?” and Din can't pull his own gloves off fast enough to get his hands on him.

And, stars above, it feels just as good as he remembers to touch him. Din's hands tremble as they slide up Corin's back, carefully urging him closer and he exhales with barely restrained want when Corin obeys. “You are so beautiful...” Din mumbles, his grip gently curling around Corin's shoulders and savoring the solid strength there before trailing down his back again. “Are you sure you want this?” If he gets to touch him again, all of him, Din is not entirely sure he'll be able to keeps hands to himself in the future.

“Yes.” Corin breathes, and to make things even worse; he licks his lips with skittish want. “Yes, I... Yes.”

He even moves beautifully under the lightest of Din's touches. Fingers barely adding pressure to Corin's hips has him roll against Din like a smooth wave and Din's mind blanks out for a moment under the tantalizing sensation that has him achingly hard faster than he'd ever experienced before.  
It's like Din's body remembers what it had had a taste of once and it is now ravenous, desperate, for more. It forgets how to breathe and merely hungers instead.

Corin leans down, places his forehead to Din's helmet again, equally as breathless. He has a grip on Din's upper arms, clutching hard, and Din is on the verge of begging, not entirely sure for what, but _something_.  
He so desperately wants whatever Corin is willing to give him.

Din places his hands flat against Corin's stomach and slides them up, feels the muscles dance under the warm skin by each of his rapid breaths, continues to move them upwards, feels him twitch as he deliberately targets his nipples, further up, until he cups that beautiful face. “So good. So perfect.”

The idea that he nearly lost him, the crushing grief and the guilt he had felt when he heard Gideon had ordered Corin's execution, it had broken Din right then and there. But Corin is not dead. He's here. Warm and real and so trusting despite what Gideon's goons put him through. 

This can't just be obligation? This can't mean nothing, right? Corin had called him his heart, even if he maybe didn't understand the weight of the words in Mando'a, there has to be some deep affection there or those spell-binding eyes wouldn't be looking at Din like this.  
“Let me touch you?” Din asks, not caring that Corin has already said he wants this. He needs him to know what he's agreeing to. Din needs to know what he's allowed to do.

“Yes.” Corin repeats in a shaky breath against the Beskar. The blackness of his pupils has just about banished every hint of the iris and a voice whispers in the back of Din's mind that he could ask Corin for anything right now and he'd agree to it.

It is probably pathetic that the first thought that strikes him is to ask Corin to love him.

-

Corin can't sit still, his body squirms a little, his hips rolls just a tiny fraction, as Din's hands, his bare hands, roams over his torso. The touch feels like a strange combination of hunger and reverence. It doesn't seem to matter that Corin's torso is like any other man's, there is nothing special about it, or the fact that Din has already had his hands on it before. Din touches like he's placing his hands on something valuable. Like their reunion had meant as much to him as it had to Corin. And it makes it impossible for Corin to sit still.  
Especially as every roll of his hips has Din's hands twitching and gives Corin an excuse to move against the promising hardness so close to his own.

Without the Beskar, it feels like there is nothing separating them. He can feel Din there behind the much softer under-armor. It's good, so good, it really is, this sweet friction, the longing caresses Din places on his skin, but it's not enough.  
Greedy as it may be, Corin wants more.  
And when Din tilts his head a little to watch his hand slide down Corin's arm, following the curves of the muscles, Corin realizes _exactly_ what he wants.

Leaning forward, first making Din tense up with a sharp inhale as it puts much appreciated pressure where Din wants it the most, Corin ignores it in favor of leaning down and nuzzling his way to what he seeks.  
Finally, _finally_ he gets his mouth on that golden neck that has been teasing him for so long.

Corin honestly can't decide which is better; the taste and the feeling against his lips, salt and heat and the rasp of stubble, or the utterly broken sound Din makes as he just goes weak and helpless under it.  
Corin feels the entire man shake when he runs his tongue along the tendon there, before he covers the skin with his mouth, feels the frantically racing pulse, and sucks on the tempting skin with every intention of leaving his mark.  
It brings another broken sound from Din's lips. One that gets a touch of a whimper to it when Corin adds a little teeth into the mix.

It certainly answers something Corin had wondered about; yes, Din's neck is even more sensitive than his wrist.

Corin slides his mouth up to just under his jawline, making Din tilt his head further to give him full access, and sucks hard on the skin there, tasting him and feeling the rasp of the stubble. It makes the Mandalorian arch up against him with a desperate gasp for air.

So sensitive.  
It is absolutely delicious.

His wrist, his neck, Corin wants to taste more of him, find more of these spots that has him heaving for air and shivering like he's been fighting for his life. Even Din's hands are just weakly scrabbling for a hold on Corin's hips, unusually uncoordinated for him, and it is so enticing to have the deadly warrior so helpless. There is so much trust in being allowed near what makes him weak. Nobody has ever trusted him this much. Nobody has ever given Corin this.

Corin pulls back a little, hears Din tries to speak, thinks he hears 'please'? He nudges Din's helmet to tilt the other way and leans down to start attacking the unclaimed side of Din's neck.

The second his mouth closes down on the man's neck, Din makes a sound that actually sounds like pain, but his fingers dig into Corin's hips and he _pulls_ him close while pushing his own hips up to meet him.  
Corin is barely aware of biting down on the neck to silence his own moan as the grinding contact has them both shuddering hard at the feeling.

Oh, this... this is going to be over real soon if Corin doesn't back off the neck, so he gives it a final kiss, open mouthed and sucking hard, hoping to leave his mark here as well, before he pulls back to gaze down at the t-visor mindlessly staring up at the ceiling.  
Licking his lips, Corin feels a mad craving to slide down and plant his mouth of the front of Din's neck too, but a brief moment of not having his skin caressed is all Din needs to regain some ability to function.

Corin merely watches as the Mandalorian's hands dart up to start opening Corin's pants like the galaxy would end if he doesn't get his hands on him.  
“I need to...” Din says, his voice raw with want. “Can I... Let me?”

Suddenly out of breath, Corin arches into his touch. “Yes.”

-

Din's pulse is throbbing so hard he can barely hear his own ragged breathing. It would be embarrassing if not for how he can see Corin's chest heaving with the same struggle for air and what is pushing hard against Corin's pants and has Corin twitching every time Din's hands brushes against it in his effort to get his hands on him.

The skin on Din's neck is throbbing too. He can't remember the last time anyone touched the skin on his neck, aside from the wound he'd gotten on the mud planet and Corin cleaning it at Liita's house. Oh, that had been torture. In the most tantalizing way. There had only been the faintest brush of skin against skin, the wound was quite painful, and still Din had been struggling to keep himself from tugging Corin down on his lap to deal with the heat coiling there.

It was as bad as when Corin had touched, then kissed, his wrist. But Din knew he couldn't expect Corin to know how it affected him. Usually Din didn't like anyone touching his skin because it _felt_ so much, but with Corin it just felt... good.  
So good.

And the memory of Corin's mouth on his neck, that feeling, it was bound to haunt his dreams from now on. Din had barely avoided coming in his pants that night on the Razor Crest. This time it was only because Corin had pulled back in time that he hadn't embarrassed himself.  
He couldn't help it. Corin's mouth on his skin just felt amazing. It was like a direct line from the contact to his already achingly hard cock.  
And speaking of...

Finally having the pants open, Din doesn't hesitate to reach in and find what he wants. 

He also does not miss out on how Corin's hands find purchase on Din's shoulders, fingers digging in hard and his hips bucking slightly as Din eases the lovely hardness out where he wants it. He draws light fingertips along the length, swallowing hard and feels a stab of envy that Corin gets to use his mouth whenever he wants and on whatever he wants.

Din decides they might as well put Corin's mouth to good use and lifts his hand up to it.

Corin doesn't hesitate either, merely moves one of his own hands up to take a hold of Din's wrist and then keeps a hypnotic eye contact as he thoroughly wets Din's palm with his tongue.

Din feels the sweat trail from his temple despite the helmet's cooling system. It just can't keep up.

His neck still throbs.

Is it possible to die from arousal? He's fairly certain if he had been wearing his vambrace connected to his body heat and pulse, it would have picked up on his racing heart rate and sent a warning up on the HUD about imminent heart failure. But while it is racing, his heart has never felt stronger.

And with a fluster across his cheekbones, eyes bright with want and a complete lack of fear or anxiousness, Corin has never looked more gorgeous. This is how he was meant to be.

Lifting his other hand, Din slides it behind Corin's neck and eases him into a kov'nyn as he reaches down to grip him with a wet touch. Corin exhales a moan at the double-contact.  
“You are so beautiful like this.” Din murmurs, moving his hand on Corin's cock. Every hitch in Corin's breath, every twitch in his hips, every drop of moisture running over his hand is quietly draining his sanity away. “And you feel so good. Always so good.” Usually words don't come naturally to Din, but here he can't get himself to shut up. “I'm the lucky one.”

Corin shuts his eyes tight, bites down on a whimper threatening to break free and can't help the way he pushes into Din's grip. “Din...” There is a plea in his voice.

Din can't deny him anything. So he tightens his grip a little, increases the pace a little, and soaks up the sounds and shivers it brings him.  
He is not prepared for Corin's hands to suddenly dig at Din's belt with desperation.

“With you...” Corin breathes. “I want... With you...”

And, yeah, Din can't deny him anything.  
But when Corin's fingers goes around him, pulls him free and guides him up to brush against his length, Din nearly comes at the sensation.

-

Slightly dizzy, Corin rests his forehead to Din's shoulder, arches his back, so he can push himself closer, and shivers at the feeling of Din's dick lined up next to his in the Mandalorian's weak and trembling clutch.  
When Din doesn't take action within half a heartbeat, Corin reaches down and covers Din's fingers with his and closes his grip tighter, making them both moan.  
Luckily it doesn't take too long after that before Din's hand begins to move and Corin can just let his slack fingers rest on top of his while floating away on the wave after wave of pleasure the movements bring him.

But it is difficult to say what is more enjoyable; the act itself or that it is Din. Din who is touching him, who is struggling to breathe as hard as he is, who can't quite keep quiet and makes these small grunts and gasps as they keep working themselves up to what is bound to be a glorious release.

Yet, what Corin does know, is that he doesn't want it to end too soon.  
When Din's movements picks up speed, when Corin feels a thigh muscle complaining as a consequence of how he's sitting while being tense as Beskar, he gets an idea and hopes Din won't mind.

He carefully halts the Mandalorian's hand, is amazed at how meekly the man allows it and merely looks up at him with quiet desperation, and Corin swallows hard. “Could we...?”

Din watches him steadily despite how he is basically thrumming with need. “Whatever you want.”

And there is no lie in that. Corin knows it in the marrow of his bones.  
Din will never be the one who demanded or pushed him. He just wants to give. It is unlike any other partner Corin has ever had. It is unlike anything he's dared to dream about...

Corin braces himself, love snaring his throat as hard as desire is throbbing in other parts, and shifts his weight a little to get a good grip on Din's hips with his knees before placing his hands on Din's sides.  
The Mandalorian manages, despite his lust-reduced state, to send him a curious glance, clearly not anticipating what Corin is going to do but simply trusting him.

Corin rolls over and easily pulls Din along with him, and as much as he hates Corin's work outs Din clearly doesn't mind being manhandled a little judging by the sound he makes, but then Corin is on his back and Din is on top of him and all rational thought goes flying out the window.  
The weight of the Mandalorian feels so good that whatever blood in Corin's body that hasn't been redirected to his dick is sent flowing there now. Corin tries to shift his legs a little to give the man more room to move, considers freeing himself to get rid of these damn pants that are really starting to annoy him, but Din's hands are already there and pulls his thighs up to cradle his hips.

Every movement gives just enough friction and pressure on their dicks, trapped between them, to amp the lust up even more but nowhere near enough to push them over the edge.

His hands on Corin's thighs, holding them in place, Din makes a trying roll with his hips that has him drops his t-visor against the area between Corin's neck and shoulder with a faint groan, while Corin's hands scrambles down Din's back in search for something to hold on to.

When Din rolls his hips again, Corin moves to meet him, and stars above, he can barely believe how good it is. Is this how it is meant to feel? Oh, how he has been missing out.  
How was Corin supposed to know that the moans of your partner could make your stomach clench with want? How was he supposed to know that the weight and the scent of him would make you want to wrap yourself around him and never let go? Nobody had ever told Corin that the urge to come would take a back-seat to just feeling _more_ of this.

And that is when his fingers finds the edge of the other man's accursed shirt and Corin manages to pull at it just enough to brush his fingers over the soft, warm skin on Din's lower back.

The touch makes Din buck his hips forward, pushes a soft gasp from Corin and he urges him to do that again.

Din obeys. He even slides one of his hands along Corin's thigh and follows it until he has a good handful of Corin's butt and guides his movements up against him as he finds the rhythm that works for them both.

Corin bites his lower lip hard to keep himself from sounding like he's one of those embarrassing adult movies again. 

-

A distant part in Din's brain is crowing over the fact that Corin's ass is glorious to touch as it is to watch, but the feeling of Corin's fingertips on his back overwhelms just about everything.

It even makes his neck throb again. And his wrist.  
It is like Corin is claiming one part after another and Din is almost unsettled by how much he wants him to. How much he wants every part of him to belong to him. His heart already does and his body furiously wants the same.  
He can't help wondering how it would feel if there was nothing but skin against skin...

Corin makes the most enticing gasp as Din's hips pushes hard at that thought, his fingers once again brushing over his lower back and even wrapping a leg around Din's thigh.

Din tries to hold back, tries to make it last longer, tries to make this as good as possible for Corin, but he's not made out of Beskar and the eager sounds the beautiful man makes as he tries to get Din even closer can only be resisted for so long.  
Placing his lower left arm on the bed, Din shifts his weight over slightly on his side and uses his right hand to reach down between them.

Corin bucks under him at the feeling of Din's fingers wrapping around him and the Mandalorian is faintly amused to hear him grit out a curse word that would normally never have left Corin's lips.

Now things really speed up.

Corin gives up touching Din's skin, merely claws a grip into the fabric of the under-armor covering his back, and a few moments later, he sounds almost distressed. “Din... I...”

“I want you to.” Din manages to assure him with barely any air in his lungs and moves up so he can watch Corin's face as his hand continues to bring him closer to reach what he so wants.

Corin looks _wrecked_. His hair is a mess, his skin is shining with sweat, his lips are swollen from him desperately biting on them to keep quiet and his striking eyes are filled with dazed need verging on pained. “With you...” He manages to says.

“I'm here.” Din leans down for a moment, places his helmet briefly to his forehead, before pulling back to look at him again. “I'm right here with you, ner kar'ta.”  
And he is. He really is. Heart, mind, his soul and very much his body, that is tensing up with anticipation of the release he can feel is building.

It takes a few more moments, a twist of his hand, and every ounce of willpower Din has to keep himself back, then he finally is graced with the sight of Corin breaking.

That flash of surprise in those amazing eyes again before Corin shuts them tight and pushes his head back into the mattress with a choked groan, his back arching and thighs clenching hard against Din. His fingers pulls at Din's under-armor, his body shakes and wet heat spreads between them.

Din sees the muscles drawing tight under Corin's skin, feels the power of the body pushing up at him, and Corin's hips grinding against his in an instinctive chase for every sliver of pleasure to be found, and he follows with his own release before Corin is halfway through his.

For a few pleasure-overloaded moments, they both simply arch and shudder and can't get close enough to the other. It is almost a relief when the rush starts to ease and they are allowed to sink back to reality.  
Din slumps for a moment, desperate for air and too dazed to remember his manners, his t-visor hidden against Corin's neck and his torso resting heavily on top of Corin's heaving chest. He reluctantly moves his right hand away and wipes it on the sheets before placing it against the mattress to push himself away and take his weight off Corin.

He doesn't get far before Corin's arms goes around him and pulls him back down, holding him close and with no signs of letting go.  
Din lifts his head to look down at him, sees the faint smile there and he can't resist moving his left hand up to gently finger-comb Corin's hair away from his sweaty brow. “I'm heavy.”

Corin merely blinks lazily, still smiling, looking too blissed out to care. “I can handle it.”

Swallowing hard, feeling a faint twitch in his spent cock, Din gives a faint nod. “I know you can.” He can both see and feel the finely trained body that easily lifted them both off the mattress during Corin's release. He knows that Corin could hold Din down without trouble and... Din forces himself to focus. How was it possible to still be craving more after what he'd just been given? “But you don't have to, anything, ever, if you don't want to. Remember?”

“I remember.” Corin confirms, moving his hands up to cup the Beskar helmet, looking him directly into the eyes as if there was no t-visor separating them. He then leans forward and gently places his lips to where they would have met Din's if there was indeed no visor separating them, making longing claw harshly in Din's chest, before shifting to place his forehead to Din's helmet in a kov'nyn afterward with a faint sigh of satisfaction. 

Din's own lips tremble, unseen.

-

Corin is allowed to hold Din close for a while, savoring the weight of him, every breath he takes and how safe it feels to be blanketed by him.  
His own body feels heavier than Din's. Corin just wants to close his eyes and sleep for a week. He feels exhausted, but in a good way. In the best way.

Din's fingers trail over his skin, following curves of muscles, exploring, and it is a soothing sensation. He'd like to return the favor but the only skin really bared are Din's hands and lower arms and Corin can't forget the brief touch he'd gotten on Din's lower back.

Though, when Din shifts slightly on top of him, Corin catches a glimpse of his neck and realizes with a jolt of shock and, he's embarrassed to admit, satisfaction that he'd left a very noticeable mark on the golden skin there.  
Din's collar and cloak will cover it up, but if anyone was to see it; there would be no doubt as to what that was. 

It looks like a possessive mark of ownership.

And it worries Corin how much he likes that idea. How much he'd like for everyone to think that Din is his and his alone. That he has claim on the Mandalorian. That Din agrees to him belonging to Corin and carries his mark as evidence.  
Corin can at least pretend, can't he? And even when Din covers it up, Corin will know it is there...

Eventually Din insists on them getting cleaned up and Corin can't be bothered until Din points out the fact that the child will be returning after his play date and suddenly there is plenty of motivation.

And Corin's reward comes when he crawls into bed again after Din and is welcomed into his embrace. He places his head on his chest, listens to his heartbeat that reassures him that this is indeed real and feels gentle fingers trailing along the curves of the muscles on his back.

Gideon's lies had made Corin think he'd lost Din forever. This? This gives Corin hope.

All he has to do is not mess up. Corin has messed up everything good in his life, always, but he is going to try his hardest not to mess this up. If he messes this up, Corin is going to wish he had been executed instead of rescued. He can't lose Din. He can't.  
Corin just have to be better. He will have to find some way to be worthy of this.

That is when he hears Din murmur something in Mando'a that Corin doesn't need a translator to understand. It's all in Din's voice.  
“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

_I love you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot more touching and a lot more tasting!

Din exhales, relieved to the point where his body shivers. He can't help himself. He moves to pull Corin into a hug, feels him give into him as sweet and willing as only a dream could be and Din holds him close to make sure he's real. Can this be real?

He did not doubt for a second that Corin would claim to love him if Din said the words first so he tried to hold the confession back, he knows how desperately Corin wants to indulge his every wish even if it goes against what Corin himself wants, but failing to do that and to hear him say he felt the same and actually believe him? Din's arms wraps even tighter around Corin.

Corin doesn't hesitate to return the gesture, both holding the other tight.

They stand like that until a thin layer of snow covers them and that is when Corin turns his head a little to say in a soft voice; “Let's go inside.”

The suggestive touch to his voice brings a stab of lust to Din's belly. He has to swallow to buy himself time to remember how to speak. And not just drag Corin along before he can confirm that this isn't just something Corin offers Din because he thinks he has to. Din knows how much Corin has missed the cold weather. “What about the snow?”

“It'll be here tomorrow. Right now I'd really like to head inside and warm up with you. If that's okay with you?” Corin replies with what sounds like a smile before he actually places an even more suggestive kiss against Din's covered neck.

“Yeah.” Din's voice is breathless. That would be more than okay with him as long as this is what Corin wants. He can't deny him anything. So he takes Corin's hand and they walk inside.

In the living room, Corin hesitates slightly by the fireplace and Din is about to clarify that they are not going to do anything Corin doesn't want to do, then he notes the light color to Corin's cheeks that is not merely from the cold but rather him struggling with how forward he'd just been. Probably thinking Din doesn't approve, judging by how Corin is now hunching his shoulders and ever so lightly biting his lower lip, both his trademark signs of fearing he has overstepped.

But Din does approve. He approves so very much.  
He moves by Corin, not letting go of his hand, and guides him over to the bedroom furthest away from where the child is sleeping.

Din does not want to risk waking said child. No thank you.

Once the door closes behind them and Din turns to face Corin again, he sees the uncertainty is gone from the remarkable eyes, replaced with a simmering want. 

Din, already warm under his clothes, feels his pulse thump harder under that gaze. He lets go of Corin's hand to remove his own gloves, eager to feel that warm skin under his touch again.

The snow has now melted, a handful of drops are trickling from Corin's hair and their clothes.

Reaching up, cupping the side of Corin's face, feeling soft skin and the light prickling of evening stubble, Din can't breathe when Corin leans into the contact and keeps looking at him under dark lashes with complete obliviousness as to how lovely he is. “You are so beautiful...” Din murmurs.

Corin turns to place a lingering kiss to Din's palm, then moves forward and brushes his lips over Din's wrist, smiling a little, and they're both thinking back to an impulsive move against a tree, a deliberate move one late night on the Razor Crest. That spot on his wrist...

Din knows Corin can feel how his pulse is racing, how excited he is, and that's good. He wants him to know. He needs Corin to _know_ , not doubt, how much Din wants this, wants him, just him.

Then Corin's lips part to place a scorching hot kiss on the thin skin separating him from the frantic thrum and Din hears himself make a weak sound at the heat that goes through him at the sensation. Even his knees threaten to give in.

Din swears he can feel the fading marks on his neck throb with jealousy.  
“Help me take the armor off?” He asks, partially because he needs to be closer to Corin, not separated by unyielding metal, and partially because he's not entirely sure he has the eye-hand coordination to do it all by himself at the moment.

Corin appears surprised at the request, but pleasantly so. “Sure.” He glances over at the bed, flushes a little. “Maybe, uh, you should sit down?”

Yeah. Best idea Din has heard all day. His knees still feel weak and he's willing to bet that feeling Corin stripping him of his armor isn't going to improve that. “Anything you want.”

Corin shrugs off his fur-collared jacket and places it across a chair while Din walks over to sit down on the bed, quickly removing his cuisses. His fingers slip and fumble at removing his greaves when he feels the bed dip as Corin climbs into it and shuffles closer behind him.  
Usually having someone at his back would have caused Din to tense up, he's open to attacks like this, but now he only feels the impatient anticipation coiling even tighter below his belt.

-

Corin's fingers tremble slightly as he moves the cloak aside and starts loosening the straps to the Beskar plate covering Din's back. He's still dazed by the snow, that Din had gone to such lengths to bring him there and in time to watch the flakes come fluttering down. All for him. There is no other reason. Din doesn't even like the snow. The child seems to adapt to all kinds of environments. They were only here, in this beautiful place, soon to be covered with beautiful snow, because Din wanted Corin to experience this.  
And Corin loves him for it.

Removing the plate, scooting over to place it respectfully on the chair, Corin turns to see that Din has removed his greaves, yes, but is now pulling his cloak free and dropping it to the floor, revealing that neck that Corin abruptly aches to place his mouth on. His marks are fading and a horribly unfamiliar need to renew his brand of ownership burns inside Corin. 

He can hardly believe it, it's like he's watching himself from the outside, when Corin walks over the mattress on his knees to slither up against Din's back. He sneaks his hands along Din's ribs to start working on the belt and buckles holding the breastplate in place, only absently notes Din trying to remove his vambraces, until his main target is finally within reach and Corin nuzzles in to get his hungry mouth back on that neck. And, yeah, it tastes just as good as he remembers.  
He feels Din's entire body give a jerk, then a shudder before he leans back against Corin and meekly tilts his helmet to the side to give him better access. Sweet luck. 

Corin sucks hard on that glorious skin, relishes the heat and the pounding pulse, wants it more than he wants oxygen, really. Feeling Din react like this, it is dangerously enticing. He draws his tongue over the skin and Din arches his back a little, a groan rumbling in his chest and his fingers dig into the sheets before he reaches back and scrabbles for a grip on Corin. 

His fingers curls behind Corin's knee and he tugs.

Corin takes the hint. He moves forward, turns, and straddles Din's thighs. Then his mouth finds its way to Din's neck again, aiming to freshen the marks on the opposite side of his neck as well. He can't claim Din, not really, he's way out of Corin's league, but he can pretend. Corin can mark his skin and he can pretend he's his. For as long as Din loves him enough to allow it.

Din groans out loud this time. His hands comes up to Corin's hips and he pulls him close to where he's already eager, pushes his own hips up when that makes Corin suck harder on his skin. “So good.” Din breathes. “You're so good. Always so good.”

Now Corin is the one who shudders. He's not good, he's never been good, he never knew how to be good, if he had then his father and uncle might have been proud of him, but there is still something inside Corin that wails desperately for Din's words to be true.  
Corin wants to be beautiful. He wants to be good.  
And he wants Din.

Corin pulls back a little, starts to unbuckle Din's breastplate with intent now.

Din emerges from his daze, decides to help and finishes removing his vambraces. Together, they strip him of his Beskar, carefully placed in a precious pile on the chair as Corin reluctantly gets up from Din's lap to place them there before returning to straddle him again.  
Din exhales a shaky breath and tugs lightly on Corin's shirt. “Please?”

Corin doesn't hesitate, merely pulls of shirt and undershirt in one go, and revels in the feeling of Din's warm hands instantly on his skin, exploring and claiming as if everything was new. 

Din suddenly hugs him tight, real tight, possessively, greedily, draws a deep breath and the underarmor digs into Corin's skin, but Corin merely wraps his own arms around him in turn.

Corin savors the anticipation a little while longer before his impatience gets the better of him. He's only human and he has the Galaxy's most arousing man between his thighs. “Din...” Breathless, Corin moves light fingertips over Din's neck, over the marks he has left there, a teasing caress. “Whatever you want.”

Din shudders, but he doesn't go for Corin's pants, like Corin hoped he would, no, instead he flips them over and Corin lands on his back on the mattress with Din on top of him.

Corin exhales a throaty sound. Oh, okay, this gives much better friction. He can work with this.

“Wait.” Din grits out when Corin eagerly rolls his hips up against him. “Wait.”

Going stock-still, Corin stares up at him, confused. Had he done something wrong?

“Wait...” Din merely mumbles yet again. He hesitates, then pushes himself further away until he is up on his feet and standing in front of the bed. “Just, wait.” And the man just walks out of the room!  
  
Corin lifts himself up on his elbows and stares at the door. Unease is tingling in his belly, suffocating the heat there.  
Wait? Wait for what?

-

Outside the door, Din needs a moment, just a moment, to try to think. His body is _howling_ with need to finish what he'd started with Corin, he's so hard he's aching, but getting off won't be enough tonight. Not after the words they had exchanged. He needs more. He can still hear the echoes of _'I love you too'_ in his head.

He can't take off the helmet and kiss Corin like he wants to do every damn day, but he can do this.  
Knowing how easily this could turn a good thing into a disaster, Din still decides to go ahead with it. He does it quickly, before he can change his mind, then turns and goes back into the room.

Corin is still lying on the bed, but tense and nervous now, not warm and pliant as before. He lifts his head when he hears Din come into the room again and the alluring eyes Din will never tire admiring widens with shocked surprise.

Din tosses his underarmor and his shirt over to land on the Beskar. He's wearing his helmet and his pants, but he still feels uncomfortably naked with his entire torso bared. Naked and anxious.  
His skin is already hyper alert and he almost dreads what it will feel like when Corin puts his hands on him.  
But everything else has felt so good. His wrist, his neck, his lower back... And he really, _really_ wants to feel Corin's body against his without even the underarmor separating them. 

-Whatever you want, Corin had said. Well, Din wants this.

Din walks over, watching warily as Corin sits up, and he has to force himself to sit down next to him.  
The surprise is still very much present on Corin's face, but it is mixed with fascination and, to Din's nervous satisfaction, want. 

Corin reaches out. His fingertips barely touches Din's upper arm and Din can't help the flinch.

Corin instantly pulls his hand back, as if his touch had cut Din. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay.” Din interrupts him, feeling his face heat up a little with embarrassment under his helmet.

“Does it hurt?” Corin asks with soft curiosity.

“No.” Din almost wishes it did because then he'd have a valid reason. “No, it's just... I feel... I...”

“Can I?” Corin holds his hand up towards his arm, but not touching. Not yet.

Din nods. Braces himself.

Corin's hand is warm, a tantalizing mix of soft and the rough texture of a soldier's touch, and Din's muscles only twitch slightly under the skin at the sensation.  
Corin hums and slides his hand up to Din's shoulder, holding a light but firm pressure.

Din shivers, but it's a good shiver. It feels good. Heat lingers in the trail of that touch.  
Corin lifting his hand, leaving only a finger to trail along Din's collarbone, makes Din flinch again. It's like his body can't make up its mind about these light touches. It feels as if they trigger his fight or flight mode.

“Sensitive.” Corin states, with awe, as if he'd just unlocked the key to the Galaxy. He pulls his hand away, frowns a little. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” Din interrupts him. He is sure. He is. He wants. He just needs Corin to help him through it. Din reaches over and pulls at Corin, makes him slide over to straddle his thighs again, tries to force his unease away. He wants this, dammit!

Corin still hesitates, so Din moves his hands up from where they are resting on Corin's hips and slides them up and around to press his palms to his lower back, urging him to come closer. 

Obedient as always, Corin does, slowly. 

Skin against skin, Din can feel his abdominal muscles tense up at the feeling, but he continues to pull Corin closer, moving his hands up his back inch by inch, until he has pushed their torsos fully against each other. They both make a quiet sound of satisfaction at the sensation and Din slides his arms completely around Corin, savoring the soft, warm skin and hard, rolling muscles like a man finally allowed a breath of air after being underwater. - _Yes_ , Din's mind purrs. - _This? Yes._

Din feels Corin's hands gently touch his back in return and is unable to stop a light flinch before the contact is firm enough to be tolerable. Nice, even. He realizes that this could actually work.

“Is... is this okay?” Corin asks.

“Yeah.” Din breathes. “It's good. You feel so good. Just like I knew you would.”

“Tell me...” Corin says, “tell me if it isn't okay. Okay?”

The smile on his lips is hidden by the helmet as always, but Din can't help himself. He's the one who usually has to remind Corin that he's allowed to say no. But in this particular situation, Din feels reassured at the words. This is why he wants Corin's hands on him. This is why he trusts him. “Okay.”

-

Corin can't believe that he's actually touching Din. Not his wrist, not stolen kisses to his neck, but his hands are spread across nothing but bare golden skin and it is like a dream. He's still reeling from the shock of when Din had entered back into the room, shirtless, looking like he'd stepped out of a forbidden dream. 

Corin runs his hands up Din's shoulder blades, finds the amount of pressure that keeps him from tensing up or flinching, a little worried about how this, skin against skin, makes lust come racing back through his veins with the force of the Death Star.  
He lets Din indulge too for a while, until the man pushes his hips up and Corin feels Din is every bit as turned on as he is, then he can't hold himself back anymore. He _has_ to taste that skin.

Leaning down, Corin places an open-mouthed kiss on the area between Din's neck and shoulder, sucks softly on the tense tendon there, feels Din buck up against him again. He kisses Din's shoulder once, hears no objection, then does it again and adds just a hint of teeth. Still no objection.  
Corin leans back a little in Din's embrace, places his own hands on Din's shoulders and waits for the t-visor to lift to focus on his face. When it does, Corin places one hand to the side of it, where he would be cupping the side of Din's face if not for the Beskar, and asks softly; “Lie back on the bed?”

Din makes a soft, displeased grunt, clearly quite happy where he is, but he does lie back and Corin grins a little. “Thank you.” He leans forward, places his hands against the mattress next to Din's ribs, caging him in, and leans down to place a kiss to the Mandalorian's collarbone.  
He hears Din draw a shivering breath, but has already moved on to kiss the dip at the very base of Din's throat. He lets his tongue touch it too.  
  
Din shudders.  
  
Corin trails a couple of light, but not too light, kisses down Din's sternum, then moves to the left and draws his lips across his pectoral muscle. 

Din is breathing hard, his hands have a death grip on the sheets and he's clearly forcing himself still.

It brings a sly smile to Corin's face. He is willing to bet his next move will shatter that control.

Corin's mouth comes down on an already hard nipple and Din's calm snaps like a thread; he arches into the kiss with a strangled moan, head pushing back into the mattress, his back arching up and thighs twitching. His hands fly up to Corin's sides and anchor themselves there.

- _Sensitive_ , Corin confirms to himself with no small amount of delight. He gives the sensitive spot another caress before he starts making his way back towards Din's sternum again.

It should be a crime for Din to cover his up. He is so lovely. Corin wants to claim every part of him. He squirms a little against Din, making him groan and whisper sweet words that Corin in no way deserves, while he inches down to reach unclaimed territory.  
Corin keeps brushing his lips to the golden skin, spends a few seconds on every scar he can see on the torso to give thanks to the wonderful body for patching him up and keeping him going so Corin could be saved by Din. He lingers a few seconds extra on a scar to his side that Corin suspects was the one bleeding when they first met on the ice planet. Din's fingers comb helplessly through Corin's hair as he moves.

Corin is almost uncomfortably turned on by the touch of whimpers to Din's breaths when he moves his body down along his, sneaking his legs between Din's knees, Din's fingers slipping from his hair, while Corin kisses his way down, down..

In a calculated move, Corin's knees hit the floor with a faint thump just about the time his lips are right above Din's belt. Shifting a little, getting his knees as comfortable as possible on the flat surface, Corin swallows hard before he reaches up with trembling fingers and starts opening Din's belt.

That makes the Mandalorian lift his helmet and stare down at him. Corin can't see his facial expression, but he sees how his chest heaves with effort of breathing, the sheen of sweat on that beautiful skin, the tense muscles in his arms and torso, and of course how turned on he is. “You... you don't have to...” Din has to clear his throat to get the words out. “Are you sure?”

Figuring it is only fair that he warns him before the disappointment, Corin mumbles his confession as he fumbles with Din's belt. “I, uh, I've only done this a couple of times before. Do you still want me to...?”  
That second time in that bar counted even though... well... It still counted!

“I want whatever you want to do.” Din exhales very slowly, trying to calm his blood, clearly not helped by the sight of Corin on his knees and his hands working on his pants. “Do you want to?”

“I do.” Corin exhales an embarrassed smile. “I'm just saying... I'm probably not very good at it.”

“This isn't a competition, ner kar'ta.” Din says. “And you _always_ feel good to me.”

Reminded of Din's earlier words, _I love you_ , Corin finds his courage. They will learn together.

-

Din knows he probably should object, probably should insist they wait, but Corin suddenly moves with determination and Din is dangerously weakened by what the man has already done to his senses.  
He can feel every spot on his body where Corin's lips have touched and they are all throbbing along with his pulse. Love and lust, a lethal combination.

When his cock is finally freed from his pants, Din lets his head drop back on the mattress with a groan of relief. Then his breath gets stuck in his throat as he feels Corin's nimble fingers wrap around him, briefly, before they trail along the length in a teasing caress, a thumb brushing over where he's most sensitive, and Din is on the verge of coming already.

Eyes shut tight, jaw aching from being clenched so hard and hands turned into tight fists, Din jolts when the thumb caresses him again. “Corin...” He... warns? Begs? Both?  
  
Din never gets to decide as he barely gets to register Corin's fingers wrapping around him again before his ability to think splinters and pleasure unfurls like a rabid supernova as he is suddenly enveloped by wet heat.  


It is pure willpower that somehow prevents him from bucking up into Corin's mouth and keep his hips still, but when Corin begins to move; Din almost breaks. It's too good. He's not going to last long. No way.  
It's already starting to build.

Soon Din's thighs tremble at the strain, his feet tense up until merely his toes are touching the ground, and his abdominal muscles clenches so hard that Din has to ease himself up on his elbows.  
Being able to watch what is happening is both a blessing, it is such a beautiful sight, and a curse, it brings him even closer to finishing.

Again an impressive display of willpower allows him to hang on a little longer, just a little longer, but then Corin slides his free hand up along Din's thigh, by his hip, up his stomach...  
Din quickly grabs his hand, holds it in his, needs the connection.

This is not the first blow-job Din's gotten, some from some pretty experienced and inventive souls, but they all fade and he can't remember a single one other than what is happening right now. The fact that this is Corin, that this happening between them, has Din's body reacting and acting like an instrument that is finally played by someone who knows how.

“I...” That is all Din manages to choke out, knowing he's unable to hold it back any longer and gives Corin's hand a warning squeeze.

When then the response is Corin simply increasing his effort, Din doesn't stand a chance.

His release hits him like a blaster shot, his entire world whites out, he opens his mouth to voice his mindless bliss but now his throat is snared too tight for any sound to emerge. Din can only shake, tremble helplessly, as pleasure washes through him, again and again, wave after wave.  
Maybe arousal couldn't kill you, but this definitely could, Din realizes in an absent way, before his throat finally opens and he draws a desperate gasp of air.

His scattered mind needs a couple of seconds to recover, hindered by after shakes of pleasure slithering through his body, but finally Din recovers enough to realize he's lying on his back and panting up at the ceiling. He lifts his head and looks down at where Corin is still kneeling.

Corin has a fragile look of hope on his face, clearly not convinced by utterly destroying Din's stoicism that he'd done well, and uncertain if he's welcome into Din's embrace or a release of his own.

It takes whatever strength Din has left, but he sits up and reaches for Corin. “Get up here. Come here. Just...” His voice his hoarse. “Come here.”

Corin takes his hand and let Din pull him up on the mattress, where he is placed on his back next to him so Din can lie on his side and run his hand down Corin's abs, aiming for the one part of him that is very happy about what he'd just watched.

Din opens Corin's pants with that one hand, leaning down to gently place a lingering kov'nyn on his sweat-soaked forehead, unable to resist the careful smile on those lush lips that had just shattered his world. “I was right.” Din murmurs. “You are always so good.” He slides his hand into the pants and wraps his fingers around the hard, wet prize he finds there, feels a twitch in his own spent cock at the soft gasp that leaves Corin. His beautiful eyes are almost all pupil. When he's really aroused, Corin's eyes go from their usual startling color to nearly all black. Another thing that makes them so incredibly mesmerizing. “Better than good. Perfect.”

-

The sight, sound and taste of Din's climax had nearly brought Corin's too, if not for a needling fear at the back of his head that his performance somehow hadn't been quite satisfactory enough. It wasn't like he had that much experience, there were probably countless tricks which had been done to Din that Corin had never heard of, but he hoped that Din might be willing to let him learn.  
If you really cared about someone, you gave them a chance to learn, right?

But now, as he's on his back, heels digging into the mattress and Din's hand working his dick with the most perfect pressure and pace, Corin's inner voice of doubt is banished. 

Especially as Din's voice rumble softly by his ear; “You heard me, ner kar'ta? So perfect. Now, let me take care of you. Please.”

Corin finds that he's the one struggling to remember how to breathe now. The words and the raw pleasure, together they are too much. His heart is thundering and the tension coiled in his lower belly is about to snap.  
Tightening his grip a little, doing a twist with his wrist, Din has Corin biting his lower lip in an effort to keep from making too much noise but he can't help but to buck up into that grip.

“That's it.” Din continues his word-caresses. “That's it. Let me do this for you. Let me see. You are so incredibly beautiful when you come, _cyare_.”

My love. Corin can't remember taking care to remember that word as he stumbled across it on his datapad, but his brain plucks the translation out from thin air and he knows; my heart, my love.  
And before the voice of doubt can speak up again, pure euphoria rushes through Corin as he comes with a mute gasp and it drowns any chance of rational thought.

“Beautiful.” Din's voice flutters through the haze of pleasure, soothes Corin's anxious mind and nudges his self-esteem. “ _Ner mesh'la cyare._ " Corin doesn't fully understand the sentence, but the Mando'a reaches out to his heart and there is nothing but affection in them.

Shuddering through the final wave of pleasure, Corin feels himself slowly returning to his senses and finds himself curled up on his side close to Din, one hand on Din's hip and his face close to Din's chest, and he absently reminds himself that he shouldn't be crowding him like this, not against his oh so sensitive skin, but strangely enough it seems like Din doesn't mind.

The Mandalorian has his own hand on Corin's lower back, holding him close, his legs are entwined with Corin's and his breathing is regular if still a little fast. It's like they've just gravitated towards each other without conscious thought, merely acting on instinct, seeking out safety in the vulnerable state.

After a moment of doubt and hesitation, Corin lifts his hand from Din's hip and places his palm against Din's chest. He feels the muscles under the skin give a brief twitch, but Din doesn't object or move away, even his breathing remains unchanged, so Corin lets his hand stay there.  
Something tells Corin that this isn't something Din does often, allow anyone this close, so he's trying to memorize everything. Who knows if or when he'll get to touch Din like this again? Be this close?

“Thank you for bringing me here.” Corin whispers. “The snow. It's wonderful. We don't have to stay long, I-”

He's interrupted by Din rolling over on his back, but also dragging Corin along and settles with him draped over his chest. “We'll stay.” Din says. His hand runs up Corin's back, soothing and possessive at the same time. “The kid had fun that time in the snow. Just... wear the jacket? Please?”

Hearing the resigned concern, Corin hides his smile against Din's exquisite chest, drawing his hand along Din's ribs. “I told you; I don't get sick from the cold.”

“Then wear it for my peace of mind.” Din counters in a dry tone.

Corin can't hold back a faint laugh. “Okay.” He places a kiss on Din's chest, just because he can and because he wants to and because he loves this man so damn much. “For you.”  
There are many ways to say 'I care', and Corin knows the jacket meant to keep him warm is one of Din's ways. That thought will warm him far more than anything else ever could.

“Thank you.” Din mumbles, trying to sound stern and failing, sliding his arm around Corin's waist and hugging him a little closer.

Feeling a little giddy, definitely not used to anyone caring about something as trivial as whether or not Corin wears a winter jacket in sub-zero temperatures, Corin leans in and decides to leave a mark of ownership on Din's chest as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment at the snow cabin. A little tasting, but a LOT of touching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
> Gorgeous art that inspired this chapter was made by the amazing art deity Cac0daemonia!

“Don't let go. Don't you dare let go.” Din grits out, holding on to Corin's hands for dear life, probably about to crack the fingers in his grip. Why had Din agreed to this? His thighs are trembling, his calves are just knots and his jaw is aching from clenching it so hard. Stupid ice skating.   
He feels ridiculous. And probably looks it too!

"I'm not letting go. Don't worry. See, you're doing so well." Corin reassures him with something between a smile and a far too amused grin, totally relaxed as he slides backwards on his death traps while pulling Din along. He moves without any effort at all, steady as a mountain and only seems to struggle keeping the happiness he feels from bursting free.

The pure joy in his remarkable eyes makes the torture Din is suffering through worth it.  
He will do whatever it takes to see Corin like this. Even take a hit to his dignity. Even risk breaking his ass.

Stupid ice skating.

As if he's able to read his mind, Corin laughs softly and increases the speed a tiny bit.

Din tightens his grip on Corin's hands, feels his legs wobble as he slides across the ice and tries to remind himself that this was a better option than allowing Corin to head up into the mountains with that board of his and risk breaking his neck.

He is not prepared for Corin backing up until he hits the bank of the lake, where he allows himself to fall backwards into the thick snow and pulls Din with him.

Din makes a small sound of surprise and distress as he falls, automatically tries to avoid Corin having the weight of a fully armored Mandalorian on top of him, but Corin's hands won't allow it and Din ends up barely avoiding giving a kov'nyn of the painful kind.

A half-formed apology dies on Din's lips when he sees that Corin is merely looking up at him with a completely unapologetic grin. He looks downright mischievous. It makes Din's danger radar give a slight jump, but he is a little uncertain as to what kind of danger he's facing. “What...”

“You look good on ice skates, Din.” Corin's grin widens and he shifts slightly under Din.

The cold must be doing things to slow down Din's brain because it fails to make sense out of those words, he knows he looks like a complete idiot on those death traps, or understand why Corin had decided to fling them both into the snow to tell him this. He draws a breath to ask Corin to specify, but the air gets stuck in his throat when he feels _how_ Corin is moving under him. The roll of his hips, the innocent slide of thighs that eases Din's between them and another hip roll...

Din feels an instant churn of heat starting to swirl low in his belly, taunted to life by the suggestive moves, and he has to clear his throat to be able to speak. “You should see me on skis.”

The low laugh emerging from Corin does 'nothing' to cool down Din and he even licks his lips in a way he knows will draw Din's attention to them. “Is that an offer?”

Din leans his hips firmly against his, pushing him a little deeper into the snow. “Absolutely.”

Corin's pupils dilate, a light flush rises to his gorgeous cheekbones. He seems to be torn between embarrassed at his own behavior and being endlessly flattered at Din's interest. How is it possible that the man can't know how beautiful he is, body and soul? The heat mixes with sweet adoration.

That's when a shadow falls over Corin's face and there is a curious chirp.

Din glances up and sees the child standing on top of the snow, too light to sink through it like two grown men, and it is looking at them down there, clearly wondering what they are up to. “Uh...”

Corin snorts a laugh, clenches his knees to Din's thighs and with a strong buck of his hips, he flips them over and has Din on his back in the snow and Corin straddling his stomach.

Stunned, Din's brain is once again scrambling to process his current situation, but Corin is already moving on.

“Hey, _ad'ika_. Bored of making snow figures?” He lifts the child into his arms and gets up on his skates in one smooth move. “Wanna take a spin around the lake?”

Din sits up as Corin skates off with the kid and watches as he picks up more and more speed. Soon the delighted squeal of the little one echoes back towards him. Din can even see its ears flapping from where they are poking out from under its winter hat.  
Not too long ago, Din would have been terrified at the sight of his loves racing across the ice at such a speed and still picking up more, but he has absolute faith in Corin's skills, the man is indeed steady as a mountain on those blades, and Din simply savors how happy they are.

And realizes his ass is getting damn cold.

-

Hours later, as the sun is setting and beautiful colors are dancing over the glittering snow, they head back up to the warm cabin.

Corin starts cutting up some fruit as a snack for the little one while Din changes the child from his winter clothes and into his night clothes before settling down on the living room floor with the kid to play a little before it is time for bed for the youngling.

After a while, Din walks into the kitchen area. “Hey, do you know where the frog is? The Womp Rat demands its presence.”

Last week, Corin had carved a small frog out of a piece of wood for the child to play with. He and Din had carved several animals, but the frog had predictably enough become the favorite.

“Oh.” Corin realizes his hands are all sticky and that makes things difficult. “My pocket. He wanted to bring it outside and gave to me when he got bored with it. I just-” 

He's about to reach for something to wipe his hands on, but freezes when Din steps up behind him and he feels Din's hands sliding into each of his front pockets. His palms are flat against Corin and they push him back a little as Din's hips move closer and he's suddenly a warm, tantalizing presence against Corin.

Corin inhales sharply, both with surprise and at how the heat flares up inside him.

Din makes a thoughtful sound, now against him from the hips to where the edge of the Beskar helmet is resting on top of Corin's shoulder. “I'll get it. Don't worry.”

“Yeah, I, uh, yeah...” Corin swallows hard, feeling his face flush and yet he leans back against Din. “Sure. Help yourself.”

That brings a faint rumble of a laugh from Din and his palms push Corin even a little closer.

Stars above, Corin has to bite his lip to keep from making a sound that would catch the attention of the child playing in the living room.  
Is this revenge from earlier? For the stupid stunt Corin had pulled by the lake? 

A jolt goes through him when he feels Din's fingers moving, only to shiver when Din withdraws his hands, the frog between two fingers, with a murmured; “Here it is. Thanks.”

Corin places his hands flat on the counter and exhales for a very long time as Din saunters back into the living room.

After that, they both keep sending the other glances, shift restlessly, hands clutching at nothing. Somehow, they manage to go through their routines until the child is tucked into bed and they return to the living room.  
There they both come to a halt and look over at each other.

Corin feels his pulse racing, the tension is killing him in the best kind of way, and judging by the tightness to Din's shoulders and his twitching fingers; he feels the same.

Corin grins, can't stop himself, and that triggers it.

Din reaches out, grabs a hold of Corin's wrist, wants to tug him closer, but Corin grabs his wrist in return and yanks Din against himself instead.

It makes Din make _that_ sound again. It is such a pretty sound; shaky, soft and eager.

Corin reaches up to cup the side of Din's neck, feels the Mandalorian lean helplessly into the touch and can barely restrain himself from uncovering the skin under the collar. “Can I...?”

“Yeah...” 

Din's voice is filled with hunger and that does dangerous things to Corin. He has to draw a deep breath to gently ease the collar down instead of tearing at it and is rewarded by the sight of that golden temptation under there. Beautiful good luck.  
But the marks he'd left are gone now and Corin doesn't like it. He unknowingly licks his lips and that makes Din shudder even before he lets his fingertips run over where he can see the skin flutter with his thrumming pulse. “I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to tease you like that at the lake...”

“Yeah, you did.” Din replies, with a slight smile in his words. “And if you failed to notice,” Din arches his back a little and pushes his hips against Corin's, “I liked it. I like _you_.”

Corin's brain stalls for a moment, the friction makes it difficult to think, plus the idea that Din might actually like him is still so unfathomable, but his hips automatically pushes back. Oh, that feels so good. He decides to challenge luck a little. “You want to...?”

Din exhales a puff of amusement. “Yeah. I really do.”

-

Both unwilling to break contact, they awkwardly make their way towards the door to the room Corin can't even look at and Din hasn't been able to stop throwing glances at. There have been nights, while Corin slept, that Din spent ages staring at the ceiling and remembering the feeling of Corin's bare hands and lips on his skin in that other room.

Now Corin's hands are against his breastplate and shoving him lightly through the open door, nudging it shut behind them with his foot, and Din finds himself herded backwards until he bumps into the bed and he obediently sits down. He's already breathless at Corin's beauty and starving for whatever he's willing to give to Din. His pulse is thumping loud and heavy. He hasn't gotten this hard this fast since he was a damn teenager.

Corin wastes no time in moving down to straddle Din and for a moment Din's brain whites out at the sudden and glorious pressure on his cock combined with Corin's lips now latching on to his neck with wet, sucking hunger and pure greed.

All the suppressed want since last he was allowed to place his hands on Corin's skin like this ignites inside Din, erupts, makes Din push his hips helplessly up and his entire body shudders hard with pleasure under the grinding pressure and the hot mouth on his skin.   
His own mouth drops open in a mute moan, unable to make a sound, he just shakes for several hard seconds, and for a moment; Din is fairly certain he just came in his pants.

But, no, once his brain manages to scramble up the few remaining blood-drops not gathered below his belt and his body eases down a little, Din becomes aware of the throbbing want still very much present there.

Corin's tongue runs over his skin in a lewd caress across a rigid tendon and Din actually whimpers.  
He feels Corin smile against his skin and it delights Din as much as he wants some payback.  
But as long as Corin keeps lavishing his neck, _oh_ , the other side now, with caresses like this, Din is a slave to the feeling. No matter how much he wants to hear Corin moan as well.

“Armor.” Din manages to force out. “Armor off.”

It works. The words make Corin sit up a little, his pupils are blown wide and there is a very flattering flush along his exquisite cheekbones, and he appears fiercely satisfied by what he's seeing and Din instantly knows the throbbing skin carries new marks from that mouth.  
Din should probably be worried over how much he loves the thought of it. How he can't wait to see his reflection and press his fingers against them.

It takes a visible effort for Corin to gather himself enough to reach out and gently start unbuckling Din's left pauldron, and Din knows he should help but he can't get over how anything as perfect as this man can exist. He should start on his vambraces, but instead; Din reaches up and gently cups the side of Corin's face and his heart clenches at how Corin automatically leans into the touch to glance at his visor with soft curiosity instead of worry. 

“You are so beautiful.” Din states, having lost count of how many times he's said it, but he will continue to tell him, as the words makes Corin laugh a little, quiet and embarrassed, clearly not understanding just how much Din means it. “You are absolutely perfect. You are-” Din's words twists into something between a gasp and a moan as Corin rolls his hips against his in an effort to stop the praise. “-overdressed. Way overdressed.”

That brings another soft laugh from Corin, but sounding very pleased with himself rather than embarrassed this time. He pulls the pauldron off Din's shoulder.

Yeah, okay, armor off first, then get his hands on Corin's skin...

They work together to remove the Beskar. Pauldrons, breast and backplates, his vambraces... Din makes a faint sound of disapproval when Corin climbs off his lap so they can detach the cuisses too.  
It feels wrong to have any kind of distance between them now.

But when Corin has placed the pile of armor safely on the chair, he turns and walks back towards Din and pulls off his own shirt with his usual carefree ease when it comes to undressing and that is reward enough for Din.  
He pulls off his gloves, not taking his gaze off Corin's torso as he approaches and once he straddles Din's lap again; his hands can finally run over that warm, smooth skin he's been dreaming about. “So good. So beautiful.”

-

For a moment, as Din runs his hands down Corin's back, Corin feels his eyes drift shut and he shivers under the murmured praise. How can someone like Corin be this lucky?  
It doesn't make sense to him. Din has touched him like this before, has seen him without his shirt countless times by now, and yet... he still sounds so approving, even grateful that he's allowed to touch as well as look. Corin doesn't understand. 

But he loves how it makes him feel.

Din always makes him feel so good. Every day. And he so desperately wants to return the favor.

Din has made no indication that he intends to remove his shirt this time and Corin doesn't want to assume or expect he'll ever do that again, having no trouble savoring the feel of his body while covered by clothing. But he hopes he knows how to make Din happy without him needing to get all that undressed and the very thought makes Corin dizzy with want.  
Corin lets Din run his hands over him for a short while longer, then leans back and smirks. 

Din pauses, realizing he's up to something, and can only give a slow inhale when Corin lifts himself up a little, shifts and then sinks to his knees between Din's and settles on the floor.

Din appears frozen, but in what Corin hopes is a good way.

Corin reaches towards Din's belt. He deliberately slides his hands over the bulge straining for freedom on his way to the belt and delights in how the contact makes Din's body jolt with a sharp exhale. It makes craving twist up tight in Corin's belly. His lips eagerly part and he's barely aware of it because he can't wait to get his mouth on him again.  
He'll do even better this time. Corin will become the best he's ever had. Corin will make sure he'll never want anyone else ever again. Corin will-

“Wait.” Din's hands suddenly grabs a hold of his wrists just as the belt comes undone.

Ice cold dread slams into Corin. His gaze snaps up to the t-visor and he can't breathe. What had he done wrong? Had he overstepped? Had he misread things? “Y-you don't want me to...?” Clearly Corin's effort had been poor last time... 

Din hesitates, seems to need a moment to collect himself (Or find some kind way of correcting Corin?) before he speaks. “Oh, I want. I really want.” He releases one wrist to reach up and cup the side of Corin's face, pressing his thumb lightly against Corin's lower lip, watches as it gives in and inhales a shivering breath. “I want it so much.”

A tingle of relief mixes with confusion and Corin absently wraps his lips around Din's thumb, still unsettled and hoping to change Din's mind. The move draws another shivering breath from Din.

“But,” Din mumbles, weakened and knowing it, “I wouldn't last five seconds. And I want more.”

The confession makes the unease flutter away and Corin even feels his mouth tug at a smile around Din's digit, too flattered not to react. He hadn't been too bad last time then. Giving the thumb a light bite before releasing it, Corin places his hands on Din's thighs, feels how the muscles are tense like iron, then pushes himself forward and up so he's almost face to visor with Din. “Then tell me what I can do for you.”

Din's hand is still on Corin's face, but now it slides behind his neck and he gently urges him into a soft keldabe kiss. “Never change. Stay you. Always.”

It goes against what Corin was taught from childhood and yet the words feel like the world's sweetest caress. He is the one to shiver this time. “Din...” Yeah, definitely lucky.

“But right now?” Din continues with a faint smile. “Would you mind getting on this bed and give me a moment to get my shirt off?”

Corin starts at the words, his gaze instinctively dipping down to Din's chest and his brain unhelpfully brings back the memory of the gorgeous sight under the clothes, but he quickly flicks his stare up at Din's t-visor again. “You... you don't have to.” He also remembers how incredibly sensitive Din's skin is and how tense he'd been when Corin had touched him.

“I know.” Din replies easily. “But I want to. If that's okay?”

Corin manages a slow nod, realizing that Din isn't the only one who has to be careful about not coming too soon tonight. “Yeah, that's... Sure... I mean... If you want to.” He gets up on his feet, slightly dizzy, not surprised as most of his blood is nowhere near his brain at the moment, and meekly sits down on the bed as Din gets up and walks towards the door.

When the door closes behind Din, Corin flops back on the mattress and takes several deep breaths.   
Din was right. Five seconds wouldn't be enough, which means he needs to calm down a little and be prepared for the glorious sight of all that golden skin he will hopefully be allowed to touch if good luck really is on his side tonight...

-

Removing his helmet, Din places it on a small table before removing his underarmor and pulling off his shirt that would be impossible to take off with his helmet on. The last time he'd done this, he'd been hopeful but worried about how Corin's hands would feel on him.  
Now he's only worried that the first touch is going to do what he knew that gorgeous mouth would do. 

Just the memory of that sensation forces Din to clench his jaw for a moment to control the heat licking up his spine.  
Dammit, his control is hanging by a thread. This is not going to be easy.

Din notices his hands are actually trembling a little as he not only grabs his helmet but also a small metal tin box. Its content is meant to give aid if your skin acted up under the armor, but Din and every other Mandalorian know a different and more fun use for it. He puts the helmet on, braces himself and steps back into the room.

Corin's torso is lying flat on the bed, his boots firmly placed on the floor and palms against the mattress, but he sits up abruptly when Din enters. His fingers curls into the sheets, as if he's trying to restrain himself from reaching out already and Din appreciates his self-control.  
He wants Corin's hands on him, he does, but he also knows how close to overwhelming it will be.

Din walks over to stand in front of him and has to use no small amount of self-control himself to not simply push the other man back down on the bed and cover him with his own body. “I, uh...”

“Whatever you want, Din.” Corin is struggling. He's trying to keep his eyes on the visor, but they keep darting down to Din's chest and lower. Din's already aching cock twitches and the level of arousal is close to uncomfortable by now. Judging by the tension in Corin, he looks to feel the same.

Din crouches down in front of him, Corin's knees almost touching his chest, not wanting to loom over him when he suggests this. “What I want is to make you feel good.” He shakes his head a little as Corin is about to speak, probably eager to reassure him he is, and forces himself to go on. “I can't give you my mouth, but I've been told I'm pretty good with my hands. Do you... want that?”

It is both adorable and funny how the words makes Corin flush with embarrassment, but there is pure trust in his eyes as he speaks. “I always want your hands on me.”

Din swallows hard, feeling the words like a caress, and uses whatever self-control he has left to make sure Corin understands. He shows him the small, round box. “I meant a different kind of touch this time. If you want it.”

He can see the pieces fall into place behind Corin's gaze and there is a moment of hesitation.

Din places his unoccupied hand on Corin's thigh, drawing his attention back to him. “If this isn't something you want, you say no. Understand? I want to do this for you, not to you. There are a million other things we can do if you would rather do something else.”

Corin still hesitates, caught in whatever thought he's going through.

Din shakes his head, withdrawing the hand with the box. “Then we won't. We can-”

“Wait.” Corin quickly grabs his wrist, holds it, then flushes with embarrassment again. “I want... to try. With you.” He stares at their hands, can't look at the visor or Din's torso.

This makes Din hesitate. He is so very wary of pushing Corin into something, but he can see no trace of reluctance or distaste on Corin's face. He looks a little nervous, yes, but not scared. “You sure?”

Corin nods. “Yeah. I want to.” 

“You're free to change your mind whenever. Okay? Just tell me.” Din waits for Corin to nod again, then gets to work.

Smiling under his helmet at the awkwardness in Corin when Din starts to loosen Corin's boots and carefully removes them, Din knows the sight of him kneeling in front of him and undressing him like this probably causes all kinds of thoughts. Corin's unfair perception of Din as some kind of flawless and all powerful deity crashes with this scenario. And maybe some part of Corin likes it? Din hopes so, because he does.

Reaching up, Din opens Corin's pants and continues to remove every piece of clothing to leave a lazily compliant Corin entirely bared in front of his eyes.

Din stands up, can't help himself and has to admire the sight for a couple of moments, torn between just admiring the beauty of it and the urge to place his hands all over it. Of course every inch of Corin matches the perfection of the rest. “So gorgeous... All of you is beautiful.”  
Whatever response Corin was meaning to give gets lost as he sees Din quickly pull off his own boots and continues where Corin had been working to undo his pants earlier.

-

Corin forgets all about what they are about to do, forgets about the heat of Din's eyes on his skin, because he can't focus on anything other than the fact that Din is stepping out of his clothes and Corin can't breathe with how much he wants to touch and taste every inch of that skin.

Stars help him, but the man is golden all over.

It is actually agony to keep his hands to himself as they both crawl up to get fully on the bed and lie on their sides, facing each other, but Corin waits. The last thing he wants is for his greedy touch to feel unpleasant to Din. It's agony, but he waits. 

And then, finally, Din takes a hold of Corin's wrist, lifts his hand, pauses and breathes, then places it to the golden chest. “I want you to.”

Swallowing hard, Corin feels the skin twitch briefly against his palm, how the muscles tense up, before Din's body relaxes and he releases Corin's wrist to signal his freedom to touch.

Light, but not too lightly, Corin finds the right balance to the contact. He is utterly captivated as he runs his hand over Din's skin. It is as smooth and soft as he remembers it, hard muscles twitching under it and yet so very vulnerable.  
Corin pauses by a scar on Din's stomach, draws his thumb along it and watches the stomach quiver. He inches down and leans in before he catches himself and looks up at the t-visor. Din is watching him and breathing hard. “Can I...?” Corin asks, knowing he is testing good luck now.

Din nods.

Leaning in, Corin places a soft kiss to the scar, forever grateful to Din's body for keeping him alive for Corin, and once he'd done that, it is so easy to place another kiss above the scar. Then one above that. He works his way up to his target and eagerly awaits Din's reaction when he places an open and wet kiss to one of his nipples.  
Corin is not disappointed.

A guttural groan tears its way up Din's throat, his body arches against him and Corin can feel Din's naked thigh sliding against his and how his hard dick leaves a wet kiss by Corin's hip. “So good. Always so good.” Din sounds like his on the verge of breaking. “ _Ner kar'ta._ ” My heart.

That is when Corin is about to beg Din to let him put his mouth on him...

But Din abruptly pulls away, moving sharp and quick, and he is the one inching down to have his face hover by Corin's stomach. There is the sound of a lid popping open and he dips his fingers into the round metal box in his hand.

Corin realizes he's not entirely sure what is expected of him. Should he roll over on his stomach? A slight tension creeps into his belly and muscles. Is Corin going to mess this up? Should he ask?

His ability to think is then shattered completely when Din's fingers merely wrap around Corin's dick and he starts working him with a tight, slick grip that is too good to be true. Corin gasps, pushes into the hand and digs his fingers into the sheets to anchor himself as he fears he might actually burst into a million pieces. He can feel it starting to build, a glorious release, low in his gut.

Din knows exactly how to touch him, knows exactly what to do to make him shudder and sweat, does it so well that Corin kind of forgets that this isn't the only touch he's getting tonight.

The first dip down feels almost accidental, the first touch inside him doesn't. The coiled up pressure in his dick makes for a nice distraction, but Corin can't quite ignore what else is going on amidst the pleasure.

It's not painful or uncomfortable, Din is making sure of that, but just like Corin feared, based on earlier experience; it's not really that big of a deal. He doesn't get why some swear by this. It's... okay, he doesn't mind it, he can tolerate it, has more than once, can be close to nice on a good day, but it is nothing compared to fucking someone or a mouth, or a hand, on your dick. 

Lost in his thoughts, Corin doesn't really register how Din anchors his other hand on Corin's hip, too occupied with trying to build up the courage to ask if they can do something else.

Which is when Din, very deliberately, curls his finger inside him, touches something.

Corin's whole body jolts. A shocked gasp tears its way up his throat, and his dick _throbs_.  
He manages to lift his head and send Din a wide-eyed look. What was that?

“Good?” Din asks. “More?”

Corin swallows hard. “Yeah.”

Din does it again. Corin collapses back against the mattress as his body jolts violently once more, clawing helplessly at the sheets and moaning. It's like some kind of electricity is skittering under his skin, through his muscles, and he can't control himself. He's never felt anything like this before.

And Din continues to touch. Occasionally teasing. More often; touches with with intent. Right _there_.

It doesn't take long before Corin is a sweaty, frantic wreck. He tries to buck away from the touch when it gets too much, but in vain and then finds himself pushing for more of it instead. He feels lightheaded, unable to get enough oxygen, and when Din's other hand starts working his dick again; Corin doesn't stand a chance. The combined sensation is just too much.

Corin comes, harder than he's ever done before. He arches off the bed, his whole body quaking under the force of it, his vision blurs, he writhes, his hands claws, and Corin can't breathe at all. It just goes on and on, wave after wave, until finally and mercifully, Din eases off and Corin crumbles back to the mattress and heaves for air with the desperation of a drowning man.

Blinking the sweat out of his eyes, his brain still scrambled and residual pleasure still fluttering around in his body, Corin is completely stunned and unable to move.

-

Din can't take his eyes off Corin. It doesn't matter that Din is so aroused he could die and so warm it feels like he never shed his clothes at all. He just can't get over how amazing this had been. How Corin somehow had managed to look even more beautiful as he just fell to fucking pieces and trusted Din through this, allowed him to give him this. “You are absolutely gorgeous. Thank you.”

And when Corin turns his head, looking at him with those amazing eyes that are still filled with awe, Din gets a moment to feel immense pride over that he'd managed to bring him such pleasure, before Corin rolls towards him and promptly shoves Din over on his back.

There really isn't enough time for Din to feel surprised or startled by this as soon after; a wet heat draws his cock in and Corin's demanding mouth destroys him just as quickly as he feared it would.   
Five seconds.   
Barely that.

Din can't even stop the downright pathetic whine and mindless praise tumbling from his lips as he comes for what feels like a small eternity. Its part pleasure and part relief at this point.   
He floats on a wild ride of bliss, sweet and sharp and glorious, shudders and shakes, and when it begins to ease down, he rolls his hips a couple of times to chase down those final slivers of pleasure before he is entirely spent and Corin's mouth eases off him. 

Lying on his back, trying to catch his breath with his eyes closed, Din has no idea how he'll be able to move at all for the next three weeks, but he still has to smile when he feels Corin place a trying kiss by Din's hip and when he gets no objection; moves in to leave one of his marks there.  
That feels nice. Din makes a sound of approval.

That seems to be all the encouragement Corin needs, as he's soon making his scenic tour of Din's skin and leaving little souvenirs all over the place. Din's body is too relaxed to mind or even bother twitching. It just feels good.

By the time Corin is leaving a mark by Din's collarbone, Din is mighty relived he's wearing his helmet so Corin can't see the stupid grin on his face. 

Corin nuzzles at the skin between Din's neck and shoulder before murmuring; “Other side?”

“Anything you want.” Din summons what little energy he's recovered and manages to roll over on his stomach, baring a new map to be explored for the other man, who wastes no time.

Corin's touch is still careful and reverent even though Din has barely flinched once under them. He runs his hands over Din's shoulders, down to his shoulder blades, trails along Din's spine. He lands soft kisses on the still damp skin, tastes the salt and leaves more of his marks. 

Din's face is starting to hurt from the non-stop smiling, but he manages to keep quiet until he feels Corin having the audacity to land a light and teasing bite to his right butt cheek. He snorts a laugh.  
“Round two? Already? I'm impressed.”

Corin laughs as well, embarrassed, and he slithers up to cover Din's back with his chest and wraps a possessive arm around his waist. “Sorry.” He nuzzles Din's shoulder for a while, then rests his chin on top of it. “I didn't know it could be like that. Like... what you did.”

Din's smile fades and now he's glad the helmet hides his frown. He tries to keep from wondering how Corin's former partners had treated him or why no one had bothered to show him. “That's how it should be. Will be. Between us.”

Corin sounds amused. “Does that mean you'll teach me and I'll get to return the favor some time?”

“I will be seriously pissed off if you don't.” Din replies, only half-joking.

That makes Corin smother a soft laugh against Din's skin and the sensation makes Din shiver with appreciation. Feeling how accepting his body is of Corin's touch and proximity underlines Din's firm belief that this is so much more than just an affair.   
Yes, Corin is the most beautiful man Din has ever seen, has the shape of Din's dreams, but there is so much more to him than that. It's not just physical attraction, it is beyond that, their souls are equally drawn towards each other. It just feels... right.

Ridiculously happy, Din is back to grinning. He shifts a leg to slide an ankle over Corin's, wanting even more contact. “I didn't say I minded you biting my ass, by the way.” 

Corin hides his face to Din's shoulder and whines. “Shut up. Or I'll do it again.”

“I said...”

And they both start laughing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back together again.  
> Learning new things.

Din is stalking down the hallway with the pace and determination of a man fearing he might be too late to save the Galaxy from some horrible disaster.  
And Corin's embarrassment at everyone knowing why they left in a hurry deepens when he realizes that he's no longer being dragged along but keeping Din's pace voluntarily and quite eagerly.

But, he's allowed, isn't he? He doesn't have to pretend he is indifferent? In the past, Din has always been so adamant about not doing anything Corin doesn't want, so it can't be wrong for Corin to show how much he wants this. How much he wants Din. And after everything that has happened, it is such a wonderful thing, such good luck, to know Din still wants him too.

They step through the door to their room, Corin enters first and Din closes and locks it behind them.  
Turning to look at the Mandalorian, Corin feels anticipation swirling low in his gut. “A while, huh?”

“Yeah.” Din replies, slowly pulling off one glove, then another, and to Corin's shock; merely drops them to the floor. He steps forward and cups Corin's face between his hands, running his thumbs lightly along his cheekbones. “But we're not doing anything you don't want to do. Understand?”

Corin swallows hard. “That doesn't exclude much.”

That brings a strange, half-choked sound from Din's throat. He slides one hand behind Corin's neck and pulls him close, wraps his other arm around his waist to hold him even tighter, and a very faint shiver runs through his body. He whispers something in Mando'a.

Corin is just reaching up to embrace him in return, eager to hold him, when Din suddenly steps away and reaches up to start unfasten Corin's right pauldron.  
Oh. Right. Maybe get armor off first.  
Corin reaches out and starts to work on Din's left pauldron.

When the armor is removed, carefully placed on a nearby crate, Corin's heart jumps when he sees his own pieces have been placed with and among Din's armor, as if they were of equal worth.

Boots are then removed as well, Din also drops his cloak to the floor, and Corin just about manhandles him over to the bed as they are both breathless and sharply impatient by now.  
Pushing Din down to sit on the mattress, noting the touch of a needy whine emerging from Din's throat at the act, Corin follows by straddling his lap and getting comfortable, pleased to feel Din's hands flying up to grab Corin's hips to anchor himself in the whirlwind of want.

“I love to watch you dance.” Din confesses in a strained voice as he looks up at him. His fingers are twitching on Corin's hips as if they fight against the urge to yank him closer. “The way you move...”

How intently had Din been watching him dance? Corin flushes slightly under the flattered sensation washing over him. “I'm not... I don't...”

“You look beautiful.” Din insists softly. “Beautiful, and the most tempting thing I've ever seen.”

Gaze flickering, clueless as to how to handle the praise he feels unworthy of, something catches Corin's attention and he lifts a hand to touch Din's covered neck. “Speaking of temptation...”

Din instantly tilts his head to the side, offers him access. “Do it. Please.”

The 'please' makes desire throb and grow and Corin can feel his lips part at the mere thought of being allowed near that golden neck again. Could he be that lucky? “Are you sure?”

“Please.” Din pleads once more, leaning up a little to encourage him further.

Corin's fingers are trembling as he gingerly eases the fabric down and reveals Din's neck. There is sign of stubble high up, his skin is fluttering where his pulse is racing, and there are lines of tendons begging to be caressed, but most eye-catching of all; not a single one of Corin's marks.

Leaning in, Corin brushes his lips over the side of Din's neck, just a brief caress, a touch to warn him of more to come, to allow him to brace himself as Corin knows how sensitive his skin is, before he places a soft, open-mouthed kiss there, tasting the heat, the salt and skin for several seconds.

Din shudders hard. His fingers are digging into Corin's hips.

Licking his lips, Corin then moves in again and this time he covers the skin with his mouth and makes his mark. He takes his time, half-closing his eyes as it makes Din groan out loud and arch against him, shuddering once more, and Corin does not ease off before he is certain that he will leave quite a prominent signature.  
He leans back with a pleased sense of things being set right. He also can't help but to register Din's shivering sigh of satisfaction as well. That makes lust coil even tighter in Corin.

Touching the mark, knowing that Din's skin must be throbbing, Corin is not prepared for Din offering up the other side of his neck to him.

“Again.” Din breathes.

Corin doesn't hesitate. And this time, he can't help but to add a little teeth as well. 

-

The wet heat, the brief pressure of teeth, Din can't help himself. He pulls Corin closer, makes him grind down on his cock, and the combination of the mouth on his neck and the friction between them has him shivering and moaning. But it is nowhere near enough...

His hands slide up behind Corin's back, fingers spread wide as to cover as much as possible, feeling the muscle moving underneath the shirt, and Din can't stop touching. It's so good. He loves how this feels. His memories can never live up to the real thing. Corin is too beautiful and feels too good.  
When Corin lets go of his neck, sits back up, Din runs his hands up Corin's stomach and chest as well. “So good.” Din mumbles, half-dazed with want and awe. “You always feel so good.”

Corin responds by simply pulling off his own shirt and throwing it away, no sign of hesitation or modesty about baring his lovely self, such a sight to admire, and so very different from the man who had ordered Din to look away on the ship.

Another confirmation that 'his' Corin is indeed back. And it makes Din's heart clench hard.

Agonized gratitude cuts through some of the lust and Din wraps both arms around Corin's torso and pulls him close. Too close for anything but that tight embrace. And yet, frustratingly apart due to Din's own clothes. Din's hands meet nothing but glorious skin, but the touch of Corin's hands on his back is dampened by fabric.  
Din sits back, frustrated, wanting the clothes off, but that would mean leaving the room and, worse, letting go of Corin. Both love and lust protest vehemently against it.

Corin has the most lovely flush along his cheekbones, but a faint worry appears in his absolutely amazing eyes. “Din? What's wrong?”

“My underarmor. The shirt. I can't remove them without...”

“Without removing your helmet.” Corin concludes. Then he gives a faint shake of his head. “You don't have to, you know. We can-”

“I want to.” Din interrupts him, too impatient for him to finish. “I want you. All of you.”

Swallowing hard, Corin looks surprised at that. 

How can he be surprised? How can he still be so ignorant to his own beauty, his heart as well as his body? How can he not know by now that he owns every single part of Din; mind, body and soul? 

“Okay...” Corin whispers, running his thumb over one of the marks he's left on Din's neck. “I'll step into the refresher room and count to ten before I come back inside. Is that enough time?”

Din gives a faint nod. He could probably have done it by the time Corin had counted to two, but what is making Din's heart race like crazy is the fact that he trusts Corin not to come back in before the count is up. He hasn't trusted anyone like this outside of his Covert and only a handful inside it.

Corin leans forward, gently presses his forehead to Din's helmet in a sweet kiss that has Din suffocating on countless declarations of love, before he swings his leg over and gets up with that dancer's grace of his and walks out of the room.

The second the door closes, Din rips his helmet off and his underarmor and shirt quickly follow so he can put the helmet back on and then forces himself to wait for Corin's return and not lose all dignity by either scratching on the refresher room door or start wailing his name.  
Either Corin is the Galaxy's slowest counter or he's adding some numbers before his return, Din would bet credits on the latter option, but finally the door opens a crack.

“Okay?” Corin's voice asks.

“Yeah.” Din replies, his fingers digging into the sheets, trying to appear less desperate than he is.

Corin steps back into the room, looking a little wary and only relaxes when he sees that Din is indeed wearing his helmet. 

The concern and the respect for his Creed, it is killing Din. It's bad enough that Corin stands there looking like perfection, beauty and strength combined, but he has to be so deferential too?  
The second Corin is within reach, Din reaches out and pulls him back down on his lap, wrapping his arms around him again and clenches his jaw at the start that goes through him when he presses his bare torso against Corin's. It doesn't matter how much Din wants this, needs this, his own body still flinches at the stimulation. It's not fair! He finally has him back and he wants to feel all of him.  
Frustrated, Din merely tries to push closer, runs his hands over Corin's lovely skin. So good...

“Din?” Corin sounds a little uncertain, allowing Din to do whatever he wants but makes no effort to place his own hands on him in return. 

“I missed you.” Din whispers. The truth just slips from his lips.

-

There is so much _pain_ in those words. Corin can barely breathe.

“I have missed you so much.” Din continues quietly, still holding on to him like he's afraid he'll lose him again if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

Corin leans down to place his cheek against the helmet, the only part of Din he dares to touch right now. He closes his eyes and swallows hard. “I'm so sorry.”

“No.” Din says, softly but with determination. “Don't be sorry. This wasn't your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Oh, but there is. And Corin knows it.  
His time as Corin Motti had been lonely and uncomfortable, scary at times, but he'd also lived in ignorant bliss of the truth. Din had none of that shielding. He's gone through months of pure agony, all because of Corin's failure to defend himself like the soldier he's supposed to be.

“I just want to feel you.” Din murmurs, tense and unhappy. “Feel you close.”

Corin slowly moves his hands to touch Din's back, holding them there even as he flinches. He can't undo the pain Din has been through. He can only try to make him feel good now. “It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here with you.”

And once Din's body accepts Corin's hands, the tension bleeding away, he leans down to touch the beautiful golden skin with his lips as well. He starts with planting kisses on Din's shoulders, the area between his neck and shoulder, even burrowing in to place a slightly teasing one at his neck as he rolls his hips gently against his, teasing ever so lightly the hard evidence of Din's hunger for him.

Din lets out soft sounds of pleasure and approval, running his own hands over every inch of Corin's skin he can reach. “So beautiful.” He whispers. “So good...”

Corin places his palm to Din's chest and gives him a gentle push until he lies back on the bed and leaves his entire golden torso open to be showered with kisses and caresses. Which he does. He hunts for and finds every weak spot Din has, uses his teeth and tongue as much as his lips, and is rewarded with shudders and moans. And it's not enough. Corin wants to do more. Needs to do more.

“Do... do you want me to touch you like last time, _ner kar'ta_?” Din's voice is shaky. He runs his fingers through Corin's hair and ends up clutching the dark locks and arching off the bed under one particularly efficient bite. “Ngh. I... Tell me what you want.”

Corin hesitates, lips hovering over Din's skin, and has to gather up courage before he can push his luck and glance up at the helmet. “You said you'd teach me. How to. Would that be okay?”

Din doesn't reply right away, stops breathing for a moment, then he lifts his helmet to look down at him; “You want to...? Are you sure? I can-”

“I want to.” Corin interrupts, emboldened by the hitch he'd heard in Din's breath at his request and how his hips now instinctively twitches up against Corin. This is clearly something Din wants and Corin has been eager to try it since last time.

Corin sees Din's throat work as he swallows, hard, before Din gives a faint nod.  
“Okay.” Din says in a hoarse whisper. “If this is is what you want?”

“It is what I want.” Corin confirms, running a loving touch over Din's chest and placing several soft kisses on the warm skin as well. “Teach me.”

“My belt.” Din says and has to clear his throat before he can continue. “My belt, on top of the armor. Small tin box. In the large pocket on the left side. We're going to need that.”

Corin gets up, even though Din won't let go at first and forces him pull free from his grip on his hair, clearly still subconsciously scared to let go, and he shuffles over to find what Din is talking about. It's not difficult, he remembers the sight of it. And when he has the small metal box in his hand, he turns to look back at Din.

Din has lifted himself up on his elbows and is watching him. His chest is moving with his rapid breaths. The tension in his body makes the lovely muscles stand out even more under the golden skin. Everything about him is radiating want and it is such a beautiful sight.

Din has been so good to him, in every aspect of Corin's life, so unselfish and patient, always forgives Corin's mistakes and shortcomings, never judges him for his past, his personal good luck charm, and Corin loves him so much it hurts.

This time it is going to be all about Din.

-

Licking his lips, Din digs his fingers into a tight grip on the sheet, forcing himself to wait while Corin fetches the tin box. He know he probably shouldn't agree to this, much like when Corin wanted to put his mouth on him that first time, but he just can't deny Corin anything.  
The fact that Din's cock is _throbbing_ eagerly at the mere thought of Corin's touch on him, in him, is something he tries to ignore.  
Corin wants this, so Din will teach him. 

And then Din nearly has a heart attack when Corin simply removes the rest of his clothes before walking back towards him like a vision out of a forbidden dream, far too comfortable in his own skin and completely ignorant to how the sight makes Din's mouth water.

The dark hair is tousled thanks to Din's fingers and it having grown longer and wild in his absence. The eyes are as hypnotizing as always and Din is still certain Corin's jawline can cut through his Beskar. His mouth... Those broad shoulders, and strong arms ending in those elegant fingers. The flat stomach with the dips of muscles thanks to Corin's insistence on torturing Din with his work outs. Powerful legs going all the way up to...

Halting in front of Din, Corin glances down at Din's still present pants and then up at the t-visor with a cautious smile. “Won't it be pretty difficult to do this with those still on?”

For an embarrassingly long moment, Din has no idea what Corin is talking about. His brain is completely deprived of blood as every drop is currently gathered below his waist. Then the words slowly make sense and Din snaps out of his daze with a jolt and reaches down to open his own pants as well.

Once he is as naked as Corin is, Din scuttles further up on the bed to get comfortable. Or as comfortable as possible when he is this turned on. And it doesn't ease up when Corin climbs into bed and moves up to sit next to him, holding out the tin box for him to take.  
“Open it.” Din says instead of taking the box, hearing the rasp of anticipation in his own voice. “And remember, it is always better to use too much than too little.”

Nodding, staring at the tin box, Corin is looking so incredibly serious, like he's getting instructions on how to defuse a bomb. If Din wasn't restrained by his helmet, he would have kissed him for being so cute. 

“Corin.” He gets his attention instead, makes those incredible eyes meet his through the visor, and even though Corin can't see it, Din gives him a reassuring smile. “Don't worry. It's not a test. It's not a competition.” With how wound up Din is right now, he doubts Corin can do anything he won't like. And if Corin does get it right, well, that would just be an extra bonus.

Corin nods again, looking a little reassured but still so focused. “Okay.” He clearly really wants to get this right. After a moment of hesitation, he opens the box and dips his fingers carefully into the slick substance. Pauses. Then he dips them again before he moves down Din's body.

Din leans back among the pillows, stares up at the ceiling, and tries to relax his muscles despite him being so eager they are starting to ache, and not in a good way. “You ca-”His words rupture into a groan when Corin simply wraps his slick fingers around Din's cock and gives him a long, deliciously lewd caress before his grip tightens slightly and he starts to work him at just the perfect pace, like he's inside Din's body already and knows what he needs to come.

Unable to stop himself from simply arching into the touch, drowning under the waves of pleasure crashing over him, again and again, so good, Din has to fight his way back to the surface and only when he can feel the pressure start building in his cock, warning about a glorious release.

“Corin...” Din manages to choke out. “Okay. Enough. You have to... If you want to...”

And like always, Corin obeys, but sliding his fingers along the length of him before withdrawing completely with a hint of regret and Din has to bite the inside of his cheek so not to beg him to put his hand back on him. Or his mouth. Oh, his mouth...

Din is only capable of give instructions out of pure willpower. His heart is beating so hard and so fast he feels like he's dying. His cock is doing what he feels like doing; weeping with frustration. But he promised Corin to teach him and teach him he shall. Even if it kills him.  
And the way he's feeling right now? It just might.

-

Corin is almost regretting asking to do this. Din had started to fall apart under his hand and Corin knows it would be so _easy_ to wreck him with his mouth. His throat tightens with the want of it.  
But this isn't about Corin and what he wants. And he remembers how intense his release had been at Din's touch. Corin had come so hard he'd even forgotten to hate himself for a moment. He wants that for Din. He's just worried he won't do it right...  
At least he thinks he knows how to pleasure him with his mouth. Whereas this is a gamble.

Still, Corin follows Din's instructions and carefully notes down any and all reactions as he touches the heat inside. Every sigh, every twitch and shudder is registered. And it seems like Corin is at least not hurting him or making it unpleasant, but Din merely makes faint hums of approval and seems far too in control for Corin to be doing it completely right.

Then Din finally tells him to curl his finger and what to search for.

And Corin knows he's found it when a jolt suddenly goes through Din, forcing a surprised sound from the Mandalorian's lips and has his hands scrambles for a grip on the sheets. Lucky hit?  
“There?” Corin asks, even as it is obvious, even as he moves to touch again and finds it again.

Din only lets out a half-strangled sound and tugs at the sheets while his legs jerks helplessly.

There is a technique to it, Corin discovers. Not too much, or it becomes unbearable and makes Din arch away from it, but softly brushing the edges until he's almost whining and then giving him a firm touch works brilliantly.

Din's chest is now glistering with sweat and moving rapidly with each hard-won breath Din manages to get into his lungs, struggling under the choking desire and relentless physical stimulation. His knuckles are white from how hard he is gripping the sheets. His thighs seem incapable of deciding whether they want to clamp down on something or spread wide to give access. And his hips buck and move with increasing desperation the more time passes.

Din, who is such a powerful and magnificent warrior, allows Corin to render him completely helpless and vulnerable, allows Corin to give him this kind of pleasure. It is such a humbling gift. It is trust in its purest form.  
Corin hadn't thought himself ignorant of sex. And he's not. He'd just been ignorant about love.

- _”That's how it should be. Will be. Between us.”_ Din had said once.

Even though Corin had believed him, he hadn't understood those words. Not truly. Not that it would go both ways. He knew Din would make him feel good, he hadn't expected to be allowed to return the favor like this, so intimately. That Corin could be so lucky to be allowed to experience this.  
And he hadn't expected how much it would turn him on in turn. How incredibly gorgeous Din looks like this, writing with pleasure at Corin's touch. How his moans and strained breaths feel like a caress to Corin's horribly neglected dick.  
This is the most arousing thing Corin has ever seen throughout his entire life.

And something stirs inside Corin, something that makes him grab a hold of Din's hip to hold him still, despite Din's instinctive need to move, and he deliver a firm touch where Din's body has no defense.  
Straining against Corin's grip, Din pulls at the sheets and lets out a guttural groan of raw relish.

Corin is struggling to breathe every bit as much as Din, as if his pleasure is Corin's pleasure, and he touches again and again, increasingly more relentless and pushing Din towards where he wants to go.  
Din's body is acting outside of Din's control now, arching and writhing, and the sounds coming from his throat sounds like they _hurt_ in the best way possible.  
And with both of his hands busy, Corin merely leans forward and puts his mouth to use as well.

The curse word that breaks free from Din's lips is something Corin never thought he would ever hear the man say, but the second it is out Din's strained breathing stops all together. He bucks hard and then comes even harder.

-

Din is dying. There is no way he can survive this. He can't breathe, his entire body is shaking under the intense rush of his release and his heart is gong to punch through his ribs as any moment. And Corin keeps making him feel everything. It's too much, it's too intense, too everything. Eyes shut tight under the onslaught, Din can actually feel something close to tears wetting his eyelashes.

It is completely and utterly perfect.

And the very second before death, as if he can sense it, Corin backs off, makes it all stop, and allows Din to come crashing back down.

Heaving for air, shivering hard as if he's freezing cold, Din can't think. His mind is too scrambled. He can't do anything. Too weak. He can't stop shivering.

There is a soft kiss to his hip, a gentle hand runs up his side in a soothing gesture, and Corin's voice is both soft and insecure. “Din?”

Unable to open his eyes or lift his head, Din weakly moves his hand to find Corin's and is grateful when Corin's hand finds his instead. He gives Corin's fingers a reassuring squeeze.

And for a little while, Corin merely continues to soothe Din's shivers with gentle touches using his free hand and featherlight kisses, until Din finally feels he can function again. He makes himself lift his head and looks down at where Corin is resting his cheek to Din's stomach and looking at their joined hands. “Get up here.” Din's voice has never been this hoarse.

Corin looks up at him with surprise on his lovely face. He hesitates, but then moves to crawl up next to him, only to have Din firmly redirect him to get on top of him. That makes Corin look even more surprised and unable to hide the soft sigh of pleasure when his still hard cock brushes against Din's hip.

“Now you.” Din whispers, pulling his legs up so he can cradle the other man between his thighs.

Corin swallows hard, tries to keep still despite the twitch to his hips. “I don't... I don't need...”

Din reaches over with his right hand and finds the tin box among the rumpled sheets, still lidless, forgotten in the heat of the moment, and clumsily digs his fingers into it. “Now you, _ner kar'ta_.” He repeats and reaches down to give him a tight, slick grip.

Corin can't resist it and Din doesn't want him to. He places his other hand behind Corin's neck and drowsily savors the feeling when he pushes into his grip. Din may be exhausted, but it still feels nice; Corin's weight on top of him, his sweat sleek skin against his and the sound of his half-choked moans as he gets increasingly closer to his own release, already riled up from giving Din his.  
Hearing Corin's trembling gasps, feeling them against his neck, Din even feels a faint lick of arousal amidst his heavy satisfaction.

And when Corin's movements loses their rhythm, when his muscles pulls tight in anticipation, Din tightens his grip a little, caresses the most sensitive part of him, and even shivers along with Corin when he comes with a shuddering groan.

Again Corin tries to move next to him, about to simply collapse, and again Din redirects him and makes him collapse on top of him, grunting with satisfaction at the weight flopping down on him.

Din doesn't care about the state of them, he just needs to hold him close, feel this is really real and not just some dream. He needs to keep reminding himself that Corin is back. He's here.

How many times had he dreamed that Corin was back only to wake up and be destroyed all over again? Countless. Din lifts his left hand and runs his fingers through Corin's damp hair, finger-combing the locks back from where they are sticking to his forehead.  
It makes the long, pitch black eyelashes lift and Corin's remarkable eyes glances up at him. He even gives a soft smile, lazy and content. So trusting. Even after life continues to do its best to break him.  
Din swallows hard, runs his fingers through Corin's hair again. _“Ner cyare.”_ My love.

Corin flushes, even though he's still flustered from his release there is no mistaking it, and he only hesitates slightly before stumbling across the words in language he's still learning; _“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”_ I love you.

Leaning into a kov'nyn, Din closes his eyes and draws a deep breath to keep himself from saying something stupid. 

Seeing Paz and Raga married hurts. He is happy on their behalf, but he can't help the intense longing he feels knowing they are now allowed to see all of each other.  
Kiss.  
Sighing, Din leans back among the pillows again and continues to run his fingers through Corin's hair, savors how the man makes a content sound and rests his head on Din's shoulder.

Corin loves him, Din knows that. He just doesn't want to marry Din.

He merely used Din's name to antagonize his grandmother, didn't know how the sound of it had made Din's heart jump and race. He didn't mean anything by it, he said so himself.  
  
Maybe he doesn't remember what Din had told him when he was trying to stop him from taking the drugs that would either give him his memories back or kill him? But he seems to be remembering everything else...

Corin loves him, Din knows that. He just doesn't want to marry Din. 

And Din will respect that because he loves Corin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taste is denied, but there is touching

Touching. All that touching! It has been driving him insane all day! Corin's hands have been all over him, touching and caressing, drawing heat wherever they lingered, non-stop. Din has been through actual torture that caused him less agony than this. There was not a single moment today where he'd been able to calm his blood after a touch before there was a new one and more heat built up.

But, he kept his mouth shut, let Corin touch as much as he wanted and found pleasure in knowing he could give Corin this. Pure platonic affection. Din knew Corin didn't mean anything by it.

That is, until the gorgeous man stares directly into Din's eyes as he places that beautiful mouth created for kissing on Din's bare and vulnerable skin with _intent_.

Forget a flare of arousal, that creates a supernova of lust, of raw want and greedy need.  
It may have started out innocently that morning, but there is nothing innocent about this. This is Corin knowing and acting on it. The blown pupils, the heat of his lips, it's almost too much to take.  
Din hears himself make an agonized sound as his self-control starts to crack.  
He's half a heartbeat away from just grabbing Corin, yanking him close, his pulse so heavy he can feel every beat pulsating in his body, when Corin lowers his hand and speaks.

“Mose?”

The Hutt opens one eye from where he's lounging on the floor while the children climb all over him and playing everything from tag to hide and seek. “What?”

“Can you watch the bean?” Corin asks, still not looking away from Din. “For a while.”

Din swallows. His pulse thumps increasingly harder and transports the remaining blood left in his brain south to add even more pressure. Everything feels tight and urgent now.

The Hutt opens both eyes and his face has an expression of deep disapproval. “Seriously? Didn't you just- Wait, no, I don't want to know. Go. Spare me the pheromones, please. _Go_.”

Corin gives Din a quizzical look. Yes? And when Din gives a helpless nod, Corin merely grabs a hold of the top of his breastplate and yanks him along to their room.

Luckily the room is not far and Din is the first to enter. But the second Corin enters and the door closes behind him, Din spins around and shoves him back against it with his own body. Oh, that feels so good. So incredibly good. That solid body, the heat, the now familiar curves, the shy gasp of almost virgin want from those lush lips...

“All day...” Din groans, knowing he's crude but can't help but to push his hips against Corin's and relishes how Corin shudders and actually tries to pull him closer. So good. Din has to get closer.  
He reaches down and takes a hold of Corin's thigh, digs his fingers into the muscle he finds there and makes him hike his leg up and wrap it around Din's hip. He grinds his hips against Corin's again. Even better, but still not enough. “Touching me all day... You've been driving me insane.”

Corin makes a helpless sound and his hands are desperately searching for a good grip on Din's back despite the backplate. “I'm sorry...” He breathes while his own hips bucks back against Din's.

Frustrated, Din groans. “Don't...” He reaches down with his other hand and takes a hold of Corin's other thigh. “Don't say that. Don't be sorry. I love your hands on me.” With a firm grip, he pulls Corin's other leg up to wrap around his waist as well, holding him up while ignoring how the man lets out a faint yelp and automatically reaches out to brace between the door frames.  
Corin is heavy, but Din loves it. It makes it even better to grind against him, again and again.  
It's so good. After an entire day of teasing, even though it wasn't meant as such, Din is riled up to the point where he can just keep doing this and finish in his pants like some damn teenager.  
“You feel so good...” Din groans, feeling Corin's body moving to meet his again and loving the needy sounds Corin makes with his every breath. 

One of Corin's hands even returns to grope his back and grabs a handful of Din's cloak to hold on to. 

Din just can't shut up. “ _So perfect. Mine. My heart. My love. My everything._ ” He rambles in Mando'a.

Corin whines, and curls forward to wrap all of himself around him, trusting Din to hold him up, hiding his face to the side of Din's neck and tightening his legs around him to make him move faster, harder...

And speaking of hard, he can feel how Corin has caught up, which stokes Din's want even more.  
That, combined with knowing how close Corin's mouth is to Din's neck, Din's body is tensing up with anticipation. He's so close. He bucks hard against him. Grinds. Just a little more... Just...

“Din...” Corin breathes. “Wait... Can I...”

It takes absolutely every ounce of willpower he has, but Din forces himself to slow down, stop and remember how to speak in non-Mando'a. “Tell me you want.” He can't hold back a guttural groan as Corin grinds against him despite the request to stop. “Tell me what you want, _my heart._ ”

Corin leans his head back against the door, breathless and flustered, his body twitching and clearly as unhappy as Din's. “I want... I want to feel you... More of you...”

Licking his lips, an act hidden behind his helmet, Din manages a faint nod. “Okay...” He makes his hands ease Corin's legs down, shivering when they tighten around him in an instinctive urge to keep him there before they slide down and the feet touch ground again. “Okay...”

Corin deserves more than a quick rut against a door. And once his blood calms just a tiny bit and he's capable of rational thought once more, Din knows he too wants more than this.  
After today, he needs more to be satisfied.

-

Slightly worried that his legs won't hold him up, they feel weak, Corin leans against the door as Din backs up a step to create space between them. He almost begs the Mandalorian to return.

Stronger than him, as always, Din keeps his distance, reaches up and starts to remove his own pauldrons. It's like he doesn't trust his hands on Corin or Corin's hands on him right now.

With shaky and clumsy fingers, Corin also starts to unbuckle his own armor It doesn't matter that Din is wearing his helmet, that his eyes are hidden behind the visor, Corin can _feel_ them on him. There is such heat in that gaze. A year ago this would have terrified him, now it gives him the kind of rush he feels when jumping off a mountain on his board.  
Corin considers dropping to his knees and offer his mouth, but he doesn't know what Din wants and he's scared he has pushed his luck enough as it is by asking him to do something more than what they were doing. Din said it was okay for him to do so, but... what if it isn't? Better play it safe.

They remove the armor with a reverence that is tainted with a little impatience this time. Corin feels a hint of embarrassment at how he drops a pauldron on top of Din's on the chair instead of gently lowering it, but Din doesn't comment on it and he yanks his own breastplate off rather roughly as well.

Corin is done before Din and he doesn't think, merely grabs a hold of his shirt to remove it. The stupid fabric is in the way. He wants Din's hands on his skin. Now. Logic dictates it goes.

Din's still gloved fingers go abruptly around Corin's wrist, just as he's about to pull his shirt up, stopping him. “No.”

Ice jolts through Corin. He _had_ pushed his luck too far. Din had changed his mind. Corin should never have said anything! Stupid, so stupid! Why couldn't he just have kept his mouth shut and been happy with what was offered to him? Why did he have to get greedy?  
Distressed and miserable, Corin's mind races for the right thing to say. Surely there has to be some way for him to fix this? What is the right thing to say?!

Din releases his wrist and slowly drags his fingers up Corin's arm. “I...” His fingers trail back down again and slides over the shirt to where Corin's own fingers had grabbed a hold. “Can I?”

Confused, Corin gives a numb nod. He doesn't understand. Din wants to undress him? Why?  
It makes no sense, but it's fine. He'll agree to whatever, just as long as Din doesn't stop.

Pausing to pull his gloves off, dropping them in that careless way that will always surprise Corin, Din then reaches out and takes a hold of Corin's hips. He pulls him a little closer, makes him take a step forward, brings their bodies almost into contact, and slides his thumbs under Corin's shirt. He rubs them lightly across the skin there. Back and forth.

Corin feels the short hair at the back of his neck prickle. Since when are his hips a sweet spot? Since now, apparently. The brush of Din's right thumb, lazily following the curve of muscle by Corin's pelvis until it disappears under the line of his pants, it reawakens with a vengeance the desire that had been startled into withdrawing earlier.

That touch, followed by others, as Din takes his sweet, sweet time, has Corin shuddering and his skin burning and he has to take a hold of the Mandalorian's shoulders to anchor himself.  
Din's hands move over his skin, so slowly, only pushing the shirt up little by little, as if every inch of skin revealed is a priceless gift. He mumbles continuous praise in part Mando'a and part Basic, but Corin can barely hear it for the blood roaring in his ears and the intense throbbing in his dick. Is it possible to die from being too turned on? Corin fears he is about to find out.

When Din finally has the shirt up high enough to touch his nipples but doesn't, Corin is starting to understand why Din was so frustrated earlier if this is what he's been feeling all day. He doesn't understand why 'his' body would excite Din this much if that is the case, but he is deliriously happy if it does.

Suddenly Din moves and pulls the shirt off Corin all together, discarding it without looking, his focus entirely on the torso bared to him. He places his right hand to Corin's chest, his fingertips barely touching the collarbone, slides it down, can probably feel Corin's racing heart, and drags his palm across the nipple in a very deliberate way. “So beautiful.” Din mumbles. “So perfect.”

Corin clenches his jaw against a groan, even though his body jerks and twitches at the sweet jolt of pleasure from the stimulation. 

Din lets out a soft exhale in return, his t-visor dipping as his sight follows his hand trailing down Corin's stomach now, lower and lower... “I want...” The words disappear in a hungry groan.

“Whatever you want.” Corin offers weakly, meaning it. “Din, whatever you want.”

Din groans again and kneels down, taking a firm hold of Corin's hips this time.

Corin, stunned, stares down at the helmet, aware of how it prevents Din from using his mouth, but just having Din on his knees in front of him and acting like he's about to...

Cold metal touches low on his stomach, stays there, and Corin can't breathe as he _knows_ by the placement of the helmet, that if not for the Beskar, Din's mouth would be kissing the skin right above the line of his pants.  
It's a lingering, yearning and almost wistful move.

-

Eventually Din forces himself up on his feet again, but his helmet moves in to place soft little 'kisses' up Corin's stomach, his chest and ends up leaning in to finish with a soft kov'nyn.  
Din is breathless and frustrated. He can't have what he wants...

That is when Corin's fingers touch Din's neck ever so gently in a mute request.

Relieved, Din tilts his head to the side and offers himself up. “Please...” He may not be able to taste Corin, but at least he can savor the sensation of Corin's lips on his skin. And luckily the man doesn't hesitate to pull down the cloth and give him exactly that; his hot, wet mouth on Din's neck.

The contact makes Din weak with delight, but then Corin gives the skin a hard suck and Din shudders and groans under the onslaught of heat rushing to his groin.  
Oh, his hips buck and he can't take much more of this or he'll be having Corin up against that door again. But it feels so good...

Allowing himself to savor it a little longer, Din realizes he's made a mistake when he feels teeth digging into his skin and an agile tongue sliding over the throbbing skin in apology right after, as the combination has him yanking Corin against himself by a harsh grip on the hips and nearly coming right then and there. It takes every ounce of will power that Din Djarin possesses to hold it back, to force his hands to let go of Corin's hips and to step rather abruptly away from the far too tempting man driving him insane. “Bed. Now.”

Corin obediently walks over, but turns to look back at him when he's standing next to it. “Din?”

Din hasn't moved, needs a moment to collect himself as he refuses to be a damn ten second man every time Corin as much as touches him. He's never had this kind of trouble before! Din clears his throat and gestures towards his own torso and then the refresher. “I want to... “

Corin nods. “Sure. If you want to. Of course.” He shifts his weight, somewhere between eager and anxious. “Do I...? Should I... just wait?” Usually he has shed all his clothes by now, but Din's request has left him uncertain of how to proceed.

“Please.” Din says, gets a nod and then, he's not proud of this, flees into the refresher room.

Once the door closes behind him and he's alone in the room, Din yanks off the helmet, places it gently on a small table there and quickly pulls his underarmor off and his shirt over his head. His skin already feels too warm, too tight, so the cool air feels amazing. That done, Din takes the two steps over to stare at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall above the big water bowl.

His face is flustered and his mouth is trembling. He turns his head a little and stares at the mark on his neck, touches it and brings his fingers to his lips.

Din remembers with crystal clear accuracy what Corin's lips look like. He closes his eyes and presses his fingers a little tighter against his own... Din pulls his hand away with a sharp exhale, splashes his face with water, dries it and walks over to put his helmet on.  
Someone amazing is waiting for him, Din's body is not shy about reminding him, and it would be wise to savor what he has instead of pining for what he can't have.

Stepping back into the room, Corin jumps up to his feet from sitting on the bed, Din marches over to step right into his personal space and wraps an arm around his waist to pull him close. His heart.  
The contact punches his breath out of his chest, as always, his muscles automatically tensing up and his skin vibrating with alarm at his vulnerable state, but Din doesn't care. Because it also feels warm and real and so very, very good.  
“ _I love you. So much._ ” Din whispers in barely audible Mando'a, sliding fingers over Corin's back.

“What?” Corin murmurs, hypnotized by Din's skin against his and clearly fighting against the urge to touch him. 

Din tells him another truth for him to hear. “You are so beautiful.” He leans even closer, wraps his arms around him, feels his go around him in return. “And don't ever apologize for touching me. I want you to touch me. I always want you to touch me. Your hands, your touch... I want it.”

Corin makes a breathless sound that is part joy and part... fear? His embrace tightens around Din.

“And I want,” Din mumbles, sinking down on his knees again, through Corin's grip until his hands dwell on Din's shoulders instead, “to touch you.” He starts unlacing Corin's boots, tilts his helmet back a bit to look up at him. “Is that okay?”

Wide-eyed and still so hopelessly ignorant about his own appeal, Corin nods. “Yeah. Very okay.”

Din eases off one boot at the time, taking the socks with them, then he opens Coirn's pants, eases them down, dragging the underwear with them, finally revealing all of that lovely skin to his greedy gaze. And touch.

-

Breathing hard, fingers twitching, Corin tries to stand still, tries to be good, but it is so difficult. Din's hands are sliding all over him, his warm touch moving over his skin, cupping a thigh muscle, fingers trailing along his pelvis, but never once where Corin is hard and aching.

“I sometimes think you can't be real.” Din mumbles, half to himself by the sound of it, trying to visit every inch of skin. “You are so gorgeous that I had to have conjured you up from my mind.”

Shaking his head, trembling with need as well as knowing he is anything but gorgeous, Corin licks his lips and tries to remember how to speak. “Din... Please...”

There is a pop as a lid is being removed, Corin remembers the small metal container he catches a brief glimpse of in Din's hand, the one that Din now dips his fingers into, and Corin has just enough time to inhale at the memory of the last time they had used that before slick fingers wrap around his dick and everything just turns into pleasure.

Choking on a groan, Corin's head tips back and he coughs the sound up towards the ceiling, entirely overwhelmed by the slippery grip working him and taking him apart. It's almost impossible to breathe, he can't get air into his lungs, his body is tensing up, preparing itself to finally unleash that pressure...  
“With you.” Corin gets out through gritted teeth, even as he's straining into Din's grip, begging for him to continue with everything but words. “I need... you.” His fingers scrabble for a grip on Din's bare shoulders despite knowing that he should be gentle with the touch in the beginning.

Din lets go of his dick, which is absolute agony, but straightens with a gruff; “Get on the bed.” that is filled with so much promise which makes it all worth it.

Luckily Corin has always been good at following orders so he manages to get on the bed as he's told, but he has to take a tight grip on the bedsheets to stay there while Din removes the rest of his own clothes. He whimpers when he sees Din is every bit as aroused as he is. He tries to pull him close even faster when the Mandalorian crawls into bed with him, breathlessly apologizes when Din flinches at the touch and groans with raw satisfaction at the weight of his body on top of his.

Heat and sweat makes their skin slide smoothly against each other, hard muscles and hard dicks grind against each other, and it is perfect. So perfect. Corin isn't perfect, this is perfect.  
Together, they are perfect.  
Which is why Corin objects, rather sharply, when Din tries to break free again, tries to move out of his tight grip.

“Let me...” Din asks in a shaky voice, inching lower along Corin's body. “Ner kar'ta, let me...” He fumbles for that small metal container again, picks it up from the floor and coats his fingers again.

Corin reluctantly lets him go, groaning an agonized sound. He knows what Din is planning and he isn't entirely sure he can take it. He's already so close, so turned on, and the memory of what Din can do with those clever fingers of his almost frightens him.

It's almost easy to ignore pain, Corin knows how to ignore pain, but no one ever taught him how to handle pleasure. His body pulsates with it, shudders and shakes, refuses to listen when he tells it to calm down and be good. Instead it reacts with savage delight at Din's slick touch inside him and moves to get more of it. Even though it is verging on too much. Way too much. Oh, stars above... So good.

Writhing on the bed, one hand up and pushing against the headboard, one hand pawing at Din's shoulder, legs mindlessly sprawled, Corin hears himself groaning and whimpering between Din's touch just teasing him and pushing right _there_. A distant part of Corin's brain points out that he should be horrified at his own wanton behavior, how he sounds, how he must look, but he can't... can't stop... It's too good. Din is making him feel too good. Only Din. Glorious Din. Beloved Din.

Din, who is moving his fingers as if he is Corin and knows where to touch and when to touch, who is murmuring soft declarations of how sweet and kind and beautiful and clever and brilliant Corin is, who is ignoring his own shaking tension to tend to his.

No. They are supposed to be enjoying this together. Together.  
Corin lets out a sharp exhale, wants to cry as he's so close to coming and has to refuse himself yet again, before he moves away from Din's touch, pushing Din away, gets his attention and uses his trembling muscles to flip Din over on his back before the Mandalorian can ask what is wrong.

Straddling Din's stomach, Corin looks down at him, noting Din's heaving chest, the sweat making his skin shine and the tense way his hands grip Corin's hips. He can't see Din's eyes, but he stares at the t-visor and knows they are locked with his. He keeps that contact while his right hand moves over to the small metal container on the bed and Corin dips his own fingers into it. He then reaches back and curls said fingers around Din's dick, starts to work him as he had done to Corin, and smirks a little when Din arches his back and pushes his helmet into the mattress with a guttural groan that guarantees those eyes are now squeezed shut.

Corin's plan had been that maybe he could just use his hand on them at the same time, but... feeling Din's hips buck under him, his hard dick in his hand, a different idea emerges.  
Corin hasn't done this in years, it's not really his favorite thing, but he'd thought the same about being touched like that. Maybe this too would be different with Din? And suddenly he wants to try.  
“Do you...” Corin's face is already flustered and damp with sweat, but he can feel it burn with embarrassment. “Do you want to...” He can't get the words out, it's too awkward, so he shuffles down on his knees, holds Din's dick in place and places himself in a way that leaves no doubt about what he's asking. “Din?”

Din is quivering with restraint. “Only if you want...” He rasps in a voice _soaked_ with want.

Corin nods, feels a drop of sweat trail down by his ribs and the pressure of Din's fingers digging into his shoulders. He wants. He wants to try. His instincts tells him that Din will make it good.

Din fumbles and finds Corin's free hand with his, braiding their fingers and holds on tight. “Not for me.” He is struggling to speak, taut to the verge of snapping, weak with lust but determined to make Corin understand. “Only if you want. This is good. So good. More than enough. Only if you want.”

Warm affection slithers in and mixes with the sharp lust, it makes Corin smile and he gives Din's fingers a light squeeze. He can feel the twitches in Din's hips, his body trying to override Din's will and seek out the heat that is offered to it. “I want.” Corin confesses as drop of sweat now slides down his back. “I want to try.”

“Only if you want.” Din repeats between sharp, excited breaths. He sounds dazed. In awe.

Corin nods, squeezes his fingers again and lets go so he can focus on what to do. His former partners usually had no trouble telling him what to do and if Corin felt like it he would do as told, but Din... Din wants Corin to feel good and that seems even more important to him than his own pleasure. It's... intoxicating. It's still so new. And addictive.  
And why Corin wants all of him. This beautiful, kind and so very gentle man.

Corin's experience in this particular activity is limited, but he knows the logistics and gravity is on his side. How difficult can it be? He places one palm low on Din's stomach for balance, pulls himself up and holds Din's dick where he needs it to be to sink down on it and take him in.

It's not as easy as he remembers it, Corin's body is tense despite him being willing, and the stretch and burn are more intense than he thought they would be. This is more to take than Din's fingers.  
But the sound Din makes, helpless and raw, makes it worth it.

When fully seated, feeling every inch of the hardness inside him, Corin has to place his hands on Din's chest, lean forward and just breathe for a moment. It feels... kind of like he remembers and yet different. This is Din, so it feels good, it feels right. But nowhere near as good as his fingers.

Din says something in Mando'a, but Corin's mind is too scrambled to translate so he just shakes his head to signal he doesn't understand. Several drops of sweat run down Corin's body.  
“Don't have to...” Din pants weakly, his hands moving up to cover Corin's. “I don't need-”

Shaking his head again, Corin doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to stop. Unless Din wants to stop, they're not stopping. Which means, he needs to start moving and shut him up.

Moving leaves Din incapable of words, but it most definitely does not shut him up. It's quite the unexpected power-trip. Corin grins a little when he rolls his hips, pulls himself up and sinks back down, listening to Din falling apart with gasps, moans and those snarling grunts that would follow a hard twitch of his hips when Corin clenches around him.

This is fine. It's okay. Once his body adjusts to Din's presence in him, it's not too bad and giving Din pleasure is more than enough for him - as the physical act itself, just as Corin expected from past experience, doesn't exactly rock Corin's world. But he doesn't mind. Din's enjoyment is enough.

Everything is fine until Din's shaking hands find their way to Corin's hips and pulls, moves him, makes him sit up, makes him change the angle of his hips, lean back a little, and suddenly a violent jolt crackles through Corin's body. His mouth drops open to groan but Din pulls at him again and it happens again and Corin can't make a sound, he just wrenches _hard_ under the feeling.

Startled, Corin folds forward and has to brace himself on his arms to keep from face-planting against Din's chest. Heaving for air, he slowly looks up at Din's t-visor, realizes the Mandalorian is still despite how he now must be beyond aching for release, and in that moment; Corin understands.  
Angles. It is all about angles.

-

Din is dying. He has thought he was dying in the past, but that was nothing compared to this. This is actually killing him. There is not a single doubt in his mind. Din Djarin is dying. So long. Goodbye.

The tight heat around his cock feels so good there are no words to do it justice, plus the muscles occasionally constricting around it, shifting and massaging it, there is no way a man can feel this kind of pleasure and survive. No one has ever felt this good to Din. No one but his Corin.

If not for the initial discomfort on Corin's face having felt like a bucket of ice water, Din would have come the second that crazy man took him inside. But not even the raw delight of the stimulation could drown out Din's distress at seeing Corin not enjoying himself.  
Even seeing the discomfort be replaced by a neutral expression once Corin was fully settled and began moving wasn't enough to let Din savor what was being given to him. He couldn't accept the trust and generosity when his beloved heart wasn't enjoying this. Not fully.

No, Din had to make him feel good too or they would never do this again. He would never ever ask Corin to do anything he didn't enjoy doing. Even though, knowing Corin, giving Din pleasure would probably have been enough for him. Well, that is not enough for Din.

So he showed him.

And that was how Din Djarin created a monster. A ravishing, sublime monster with no pity.

Corin leans back, his hands on Din's thighs, rolls his hips and pleasures them both with the perfect angle where Din hits right where he needs it. That is until he's on the verge of coming, then Corin simply leans forward and continues to ride and torment Din without direct contact to his own sweet spot. Once the imminent risk of coming has dwindled, Corin leans back again and moves while he groans with smug bliss.  
He does this again and again.

Din tries to wrap his fingers around Corin's weeping cock to even the odds a little, but Corin won't allow it. He's clearly set on killing Din. The beautiful, horrible villain he is.

Holding out for as long as he can, trying to make up for not lasting longer before, Din finally breaks. The warning signals rushes up his spine and urgency hits him like a blaster shot.  
Sitting up, wrapping his arms around Corin's waist, needing him close, Din presses his t-visor to Corin's sweat-sleek collarbone and begins to snap his hips hard up against him. “I...” He pants, his hands slipping on the wet skin, “I can't...” It's already starting and he can't stop it.

His own arms wrapped tightly around Din, one hand on his neck, his fingers brushing by the hair at the start of his nape, Corin presses against him, urges him on. “Yes. Please. I want to feel it.”

Din's jaw is clenched so hard it hurts. He's holding on to Corin too hard. He's moving too rough.

And all Corin does is keep moving, keeps holding him tight, then his mouth claims Din's neck...

The building pressure erupts and Din is slammed with euphoria too powerful to express. He quakes with the intensity of it, stabbed again and again by an almost cruel pleasure as Corin keeps moving and draws everything he has out of him. Din's body tries to keep it going, tries to give him even more, keeps pushing up into that tight heat, and a broken whimper struggles its way up his throat. His hips stutter, his muscles twitch and jerk, and when the pleasure is almost turning into pain, it forces him to settle with just a few more thrusts to chase the final slivers of bliss before an unbearable heaviness settles into his limbs.

Sagging against Corin, resting his head on his shoulder, Din heaves for air. He feels dizzy. Weak. For a little while, they remain like that, Din trying to reboot his brain and Corin merely petting his neck, then Din leans back to lie back down and drags Corin along, who follows with a soft sigh of regret.

Oh, did Corin think this was over? After what he'd just done to Din? Not a chance.

Din blindly reaches out, searches, finds and dips his hand into what remains in the small metal container, noting they are going to need to refill that real soon, and turns back to his beautiful, oh so tempting heart.  
Time for payback.

Din moves fast. One arm goes around Corin's waist and then he flips him over on his back on the mattress. Before the startled yelp has fully left those beautiful lips, Din is settling between Corin's legs and has one hand between them as well. “Can I?”

Staring down at Din with those mesmerizing eyes of his, dark locks glued to his sweaty forehead, Corin nods.

And while he can't get hard again, not that fast, Din shudders with pleasure when he gets to use his fingers and watch Corin flop back, squirm, arch and pant as he gets closer and closer to his own release. Din gets his free hand on Corin's shamefully neglected cock and loves the moan it gets him.

Usually Din would be gentle, careful, but judging by the impatient jerks of Corin's hips, his restless hands and his heels digging into the sheets; Corin doesn't want gentle. And whatever Corin wants, Din will give to him.  
He would kill for him. He would die for him.

And right now? He has Corin coming so hard he arches off the bed. The sheets rips apart with a sharp sound as Corin pulls at them in his shaking ecstasy and Din tries to burn the sight and sound into his mind forever. His own mind-porn. Nothing will ever be this enticing and beautiful.

Din licks his lips, wishes he was tasting him, watches as Corin slowly sinks back down and heaves for air.

Din is dying.  
He is definitely dying.  
You can't love someone this much and survive.

But, Corin and this thing they have together? Worth dying for, Din decides.

Yeah, Din confirms, crawling up to curl up close as Corin reaches out for him, definitely worth dying for.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, this isn't Touch and Taste,  
> this is Talk and Taste...

“Din?”

“Mmh?” Din replies absently, running a gloved thumb back and forth over Corin's still bruised fingers as if he can wipe away the consequences of punching someone while wearing fancy, impractical rings.

“You don't want to stay here, do you?” Corin asks, hoping he knows the answer and dreads being wrong. “In this house? On Seswenna?”

Din hesitates. “It's your home...”

“No.” Corin hoists himself up to look down at the t-visor. “No,” he repeats, “this is not my home. It never was. I hate this place. I hate the people here.” He reaches up and gently touches the lower part of the t-visor. “My home is with you. With our kid. With you two. You are my home.”  
Despite the underarmor and Beskar separating them, Corin feels Din shiver. He closes his eyes when Din's hands come up to cup his face and eases him into a gentle, lingering kov'nyn. There are words in softly whispered Mando'a that Corin doesn't understand, but he understands the raw emotion in them. He feels the same. Sometimes the actual words aren't the most important part.

Eventually Corin eases down to rest his head on Din's chest again. He feels the soft rise of Din's chest as he breathes, feels Din's hand resting on his lower back and how their legs are all tangled up together. Din's so real, so solid and warm. Suddenly Corin realizes something... A piece of good luck.  
“Din?”

“Mmh?” Din replies.

Corin doesn't really move, but he smirks. “We're all alone in this room.”

Din's fingers twitches on his lower back and Corin's smug smile widens. Like he had read the meaning behind the Mando'a, Din reads the suggestive meaning behind his words.

“It's...” Din has to try again. “It's not... really safe...” His words are weak, hesitant and his gloved fingers tug and pull lightly at Corin's sleeveless shirt until they touch skin right above the waistline of his sweatpants. 

Din might not feel the contact, but Corin does. And it feels good. Even gloved, Din's touch feels so very good. And it feels like forever since he got to touch Din.

“I was thinking...” Corin says as he slides his hand down Din's stomach, lets it roam over the flat surface for a while and absently toys with the belt. His face burns with embarrassment over what he's about to suggest. “We don't have to... do everything. You can keep the armor on.” Corin can't believe he's about to say this. If Din wanted to touch him, he would have taken the initiative. Right? He's going to think Corin is weak-willed, unable to keep his hands to himself while they should be on the alert. He's going to realize just how far from being Mandokarla Corin really is. But still Corin asks: “We could just... do a little?” 

Din lets out a soft groan of frustration just as his fingers pushes Corin closer against him.

Corin flicks his guilty gaze up to Din's t-visor, unwilling to pressure Din into anything. “I mean, if you wanted to. If you don't, that's okay. I didn't mean... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-”

“I've wanted to ever since I saw you in those fancy clothes.” Din confesses, fingers spreading wide across Corin's lower back and pushing him close again, probably knowing better than to be vulnerable in unfamiliar surroundings but unable to tell Corin no. Din's generous nature is a danger to his own safety. “I wanted to, right there on that kriffing dance floor, in front of all those people.”

“Oh...” Corin replies, wide-eyed and suddenly breathless. The heat in his face now has nothing to do with embarrassment. 

“Yeah.” Din confirms, his thigh moving a little against Corin's. “You looked so good. You moved so _good_. I should have been paying attention to the surroundings, scanning for danger, but I couldn't take my eyes off you. Could barely keep my hands off you.” He makes a hungry sound and tries yet again to push Corin even closer despite how he now is more or less squeezed up against his side. 

Flustered, flattered and struggling to believe his own ears, Corin absently licks his lips. “If I'd known a room full of rich people is what it takes to make you dance with me, I would have suggested we'd come here a lot sooner.” It's a weak joke, but it's all he's got as his blood is leaving his brain and heading south for more important areas.

Din lets out a soft huff of a laugh towards the ceiling but ends up not breathing at all when Corin takes a hold of the latch on his belt.

“A little?” Corin asks softly, desperately hoping Din will agree. Is good luck this kind?

“A little.” Din agrees, running a gloved hand up Corin's arm, trailing the muscles there with a longing that could almost match Corin's.

-

They shouldn't. Din knows this. They are in unfamiliar surroundings and there are people in this city that want them dead, but... just a little. Surely that can't hurt? They deserve a little. Right?

Din has been good, despite Corin running around half-naked on the Razor Crest and making those sounds, looking so good in his fancy clothes and just about seducing Din on the dance floor in front of all those strangers. Din hates dancing in front of others, but he loved that moment. The confidence, the steady hand on Din's back and the smooth movement of Corin's body...  
And then he had entered that room to find his beautiful Corin, a little breathless and with slightly ruffled hair, surrounded by a whole bunch of guards he'd defeated by himself. Half of Din's brain had screamed at Din's failure at protecting his beloved, but the other half, after making sure Corin was unharmed, wanted to beg him to take the marriage vows with him that very moment. So strong, so skilled and brave, his heart.

And now, to hear him call Din and their child his home? Choosing them over power and wealth? Could it really be true? Din's throat snares up at the thought and the emotions that follow.  
Sliding his hand up Corin's arm, feeling the bicep move as Corin works on the belt, Din doesn't like how the touch is numbed due to the glove. He wants to rip his gloves off, touch that perfect skin, feel the warm smoothness, but then his belt is opened and Corin gently nudges Din's hip.

Din acquiesces and lifts his hips to let Corin drag the belt away. Old habits and conditioning point out that his grenades and blaster are now out of immediate reach after Corin gingerly eases the belt down to lie on the floor, but Din doesn't care. He just wants Corin's hands back on him again.  
But when they return to him, he's still not satisfied. Corin's touch moving on top of Din's underarmor and shirt is just frustrating. Closer. They need to be closer.  
“Corin. Get... I need...” _You. You gorgeous, perfect creature. I need you._

Corin looks up at him, flustered and beautiful. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, he is without armor, bare and so trusting it hurts to look at. “Anything you want, Din. Anything.”

Din pulls Corin closer, keeps pulling, until Corin takes the hint, finally, and moves on top of him.  
Oh, that's better. The heavy, solid weight pushes Din down and heats up his blood. He lets out a shaky exhale and then moves his legs to settle Corin between them, getting some glorious pressure right where he wants it. Needs it. Din's hips automatically rolls up against him, in search of more pressure, more friction, just... more. He is struck with the urge to wrap his legs around Corin's waist and rut away until they both come in their pants like a pair of teenagers. And the slightly hurt sound of helpless want that emerges from Corin at the grind, well, that only makes the idea even more tempting. 

Especially when that beautiful man appears to be a little confused and very surprised that Din welcomes this.  
How can Corin 'still' not understand? Those internal scars must run to his very core...

“You are so perfect.” Din mumbles, hoping one day Corin will believe him. He indulges himself with a moment of admiring the exquisite face of his beloved. Those tempting lips. Those cheekbones. The hint of stubble after a long day. Din sees the desire he feels reflected in those remarkable eyes and can't believe he, Din Djarin, can be this lucky. “My love.”

Wearing the helmet and the armor with pride after taking the Creed, Din had become more and more uncomfortable with direct touch to his skin as the years passed. It was like he grew increasingly sensitive. With time skin against skin became outright difficult to handle, until Din came to honestly dislike the raw and too vulnerable feeling. (He fortunately discovered it wasn't technically necessary to remove much clothes for sex. No need to make it personal.)  
But now he realizes he wants it. He wants it so much. Right now, Din violently resents the clothing and armor keeping him from Corin. Instead of protected, he feels cheated. He feels stifled and too warm. He wants to run his hands over Corin and feel every lovely inch of his skin without barriers.

The sight of Corin in his fancy clothes, owning this fancy house, owning more credits than Din will ever have in his life time, it had been a stark reminder that he comes from a very different world than Din. This is where he was born, his roots and bloodline are here. And yet, Corin hadn't hesitated to renounce it all for Din and their child. Home. The three of them were 'home'.

Arching under Corin, sliding a gloved hand under the sleeveless shirt to run it over the glorious back and wishing he could feel it better, Din grits his teeth in quiet frustration and rolls his hips again. It's good, gives a sweet sting of pleasure, but it's still not enough. The frustration grows.  
“ _My heart. My beautiful love._ ” Din only realizes he had spoken in Mando'a once the words has left his lips. His control is slipping. He has to be careful or he'll end up saying too much.

Clenching his jaw, Din runs his gloved hands over Corin's broad back and savors the way Corin moves under the touch, so warm, alive and strong and hopelessly selfless. He desperately needs to make Corin feel as good as Din does right now. He needs to love him and be loved by him. He aches to remove every piece of clothing on Corin's magnificent body and feel all of him.

Din wants to feel Corin's breath on his neck, the wet heat of his mouth marking him, his hard muscles against the soft skin of Din's inner thigh...

He wants... Din's face flares up at the thought of what he wants, has wanted for a while, and his stomach clenches hard with greed. He wants...

-

Corin closes his eyes hard, has to try to focus on breathing, while Din keeps grinding up against him, mumbling in Mando'a, and it is getting increasingly difficult to remember 'just a little' and not just throw caution to the wind entirely. Din feels so good, so solid and strong and tempting...

But Din doesn't want that. He's stronger than Corin and knows to stay focused. This is why he's a Mandalorian and Corin can never be. But it is also why Corin can buckle under temptation and at least make Din feel good.  
It takes every bit of his willpower for Corin to ease his own hardness away from Din's and start to make his way down the wonderful body underneath him.

“ _No. No, stay with me._ ” Din complains.

Corin's mind translates the Mando'a while Din's fingers gets a desperate hold of the fabric of Corin's sleeveless to prevent him from moving away, holding on tight.  
“Just... Let me...” Wiggling out of the shirt when Din won't let go, Corin keeps inching down and only pauses when Din's powerful thighs are cradling Corin's chest.  
Strangely nervous, Corin places a light hand on where Din's hardness is straining against his pants, encouraged by the sharp intake of breath and the shudder that goes through Din's body. “Is this okay? Do you want me to...?” He can't get the words out, can't find the right ones that won't make him sound like an idiot, so he leans down and gives that bulge a ghost of a kiss. “Can I...? Please?”

Din gulps for air and his body shakes even harder. His hands drop to the mattress for a death-grip on the sheets, probably to keep from reaching for Corin's hair. “What... Whatever you want...” Din's voice sounds hoarse. “You, _my heart_. Whatever you want. I just want what you want.”

Corin's heart hurts with love for how unselfish Din is. How truly _good_ this man is. How lucky Corin is that Din loves him. He manages a faint smile, slides his hands up to gently push away fabric so he can get to the fastening of Din's pants. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then you don't have to do this.” Din replies, trying hard to keep his hips still and only occasionally failing. “You make me feel good when you're happy. You make me feel good when you laugh, when you... when you get drunk and want to hug everyone, and the way you light up when you see, ngh, that stupid snow... You make me feel so good when you hold on tight in your sleep. When you lick your fingers after a messy meal... When you try to tame that insane morning hair of yours...”

Corin isn't entirely sure why his eyes blur with tears for a moment, but he blinks them away and works with determination to open Din's pants. He ignores how his hands tremble. It's almost a relief when he reaches inside and gets a hold of that perfect dick, reducing Din's voice to a helpless moan instead of giving him undeserved praise.

Running a gentle caress along Din's length, Corin wonders if how much he wants to do this makes him a bad person. It's meant to be entirely about Din. He wants to do this for Din. He wants to get better at this, so he can make it absolutely perfect for Din.

But how can Corin not crave the absolutely 'shocked' sound that leaves Din's lips when he gives him his mouth right now? 

How is he supposed to not feel desire like a blaster shot to the gut when Din keeps shuddering with these constant sharp hitches in his breath as he works him?

If this makes him a bad person, Corin can't get himself to care right now.  
Especially when the hand he has against Din's hip to control the twitching movements slips a little and his thumb slides between Din's pants and shirt; touching a patch of warm, golden skin on his pelvis. A treasure amidst the layers of clothing keeping him from Corin. A piece of good luck.

The unexpected and glorious contact brings back the memory of the very first time he had touched Din's skin, that sliver of skin by his wrist, and it has Corin give a faint hum of approval without really thinking about it. To his surprise, that results in Din's hips giving a sudden buck upwards, luckily subdued by Corin's hand on his hip, and Din grits out a throaty groan before reining in control again.

“Sorry...” Din pants. “Sorry.”

Corin's not. He's fascinated. What just happened? Wait, is that a thing? Does that do something?  
Curious, he does it again.

-

It's a torture of a challenge to keep still when Corin's mouth caresses his cock and causes not so innocent responses to shoot through Din, bringing him from turned on to almost coming within ten seconds, but when Corin _hums_ ; Din physically can't prevent his body from reacting to the vibrations. It's impossible. It's too much.  
It's bad manners, he knows, you don't do that when you are given this gift, but he can't control it.

The first time it happens, it's an accident by both sides, but then Corin does it again and now it seems to be a very deliberate move by him as he draws the sound out longer.

Din's hips buck hard, electric sparks of pleasure crackling through his blood, and he grits his teeth against the loud moan that breaks free. He shivers as he sinks back down to the sheets, staring blindly up at the ceiling while he reaches down with a fumbling hand in search of something of Corin's to hold on to. “Careful, _my heart_.” Even by accident, Din doesn't want to cause him discomfort.

Corin's fingers meet his and they braid as Corin lets go of other parts of him. “Was that... wrong? You don't like that?”

Din exhales a laugh, squeezing the fingers. “I like it a little too much.” He draws a shivering breath. “As I'm sure you noticed. Sorry.”

“So... you 'do' like it.” Corin concludes in a tone far too serious for the subject. “Roger that.”

Din has to smile at the adorable innocence that few men Corin's age have but then his smile wavers at the reminder that no one has taken the time or put in the effort to show him these things. Not only has he been deprived of love, but pleasure as well?  
Din's smile then fades away entirely as he realizes he too will fail to show Corin how good this can feel. His Creed won't let him. If only-

His thoughts are abruptly shattered to a thousand shining fragments when Corin's mouth takes him in again. Din lets out a shaky groan, feels the clammy sweat under his suffocating clothing and how the muscles in his thighs twitches restlessly as he falls back in to that syrupy world of nothing but the sensation of pleasure and love for the man so close to him. The man who chooses Din and their son above a life of luxury and fame. His thighs tighten and clench against Corin's ribs.

“You feel so good.” Din breathes, half delirious with thick delight in his veins, trying to keep still to make up for almost ruining the moment by bucking into him. His release starts to beckon him. Heat coils up tight low in his gut. ”Too good. Already close...”

Corin, the gorgeous devil, simply hums around his cock again, a smug sound, and his lips tighten slightly with, what, a smile?

This time, when Din automatically bucks up despite his best intentions, Corin is prepared. He lets go of Din's fingers so he can grab Din's hips with both hands, _shoves_ him back down against the sheets and pins him there without hesitation or breaking his rhythm.

Din's eyes opens wide as his entire body lights up, goosebumps spread across his sweaty skin despite the burning heat, and he can hear himself make this sharp, wounded whine.

Oh. That?  
_Yes!_

Corin, clearly thinking he'd caused him discomfort, lets go at hyperspeed and pulls away, but Din - equally fast -grabs his wrist and pulls his hand back down to his hip again. There he presses Corin's fingers into the fabric to make him take hold once more.

Corin does, a trying grip at first, until Din presses his fingers tighter, then the grip becomes firmer and he feels weak with anticipation.

Din has never trusted anyone like this, has never been able to let go and know it won't be used against him. He's never felt the urge. It's never felt safe. Until this man. Instead of worrying, there is just something so very exciting about that constantly restrained strength in Corin being let off the leash for once. Him handling Din like he weighs nothing, raw strength combined with a kind heart, it makes Din's heart race and his pulse thump.

“Like this?” Corin asks, uncertain but eager to give him what he wants. So beautiful. So kind.

“Yeah...” Din breathes, reaching out a shaky hand to stroke away a lock of Corin's hair from his forehead with a gloved index finger. “Please...”

Nodding, going from hesitant to excited at the obvious craving in Din's voice, Corin seems emboldened by this request and even moves with some confidence to give him his mouth again.  
Oh, the only thing able to make that man more beautiful is the sight of confidence. Din doesn't stand a chance.

His body instantly starts tensing up like a blaster charging up to fire and Din quakes under the rapidly increasing pressure. It builds and it builds. His fingers start to claw at the sheets in blind desperation to keep from reaching for Corin's hair. Some faint survival instinct makes it so his hips tries to buck, but those strong, perfect hands keep him in place and delight floods him even harder. Oh, this is going to be fierce. It's going to be overwhelming. It is already close to impossible to breathe and yet words start to tumble from Din's lips.

“ _You are so beautiful, kind and strong. So perfect._ ” Din groans in Mando'a, his voice shaking. He doesn't know how much Corin understands of what he's saying, if anything at all, but Din can't make himself shut up. He's lost his mind. “ _You have no idea how much I want to taste you like you do to me. How much I want to kiss you. I dream about kissing those gorgeous lips of yours. I wake up thinking I can still taste you. I worry I might actually go insane if I don't get to kiss you soon, my love. Please, I-_ ” 

Like a stab to the gut, Din gets no warning and can give no warning before his body twists, helpless in Corin's tight grip, and he comes hard. Euphoria slams into him, chokes him to silence, pulls his muscles so tight they hurt, forcing him to sit up a little to fold in on himself, and he can only try to survive it.  
Shutting his eyes tight, lips parted in a mute groan of divine agony, Din shakes, dies and is reborn.

A final jolt of pleasure runs through him and finally he can draw a shivering breath as he falls back to the mattress to come down from his mind-shattering high. He feels drunk. He feels drugged. 

He definitely needs to shut up now, before he starts rambling again.

Din reaches up and turns off his mic with a trembling hand.

-

Feeling unbearably smug about knowing Din's weak spots, strategic humming needs to be explored further and manhandling is definitely confirmed, Corin runs his hands soothingly over the non-armored legs, stomach, arms, and waits for Din to recover. That had to have been good, right? And Corin knows he can do better. If Din is willing to let him learn, he can do better.

Lost in his thoughts, Corin is completely unprepared for the sudden sound of a muffled but so very unfiltered and human voice speaking Mando'a.  
“ _My beloved._ ”

Startled, Corin looks up at the helmet as he realizes it is Din's voice. His actual voice. He'd said a lot earlier when Corin had been too busy to really listen, but that had been his usual filtered voice. This? This is Din. Pure Din.

-He even sounds beautiful, Corin thinks to himself, with no small amount of awe.

It also makes him remember in startlingly clear detail the outline of Din's chin that he'd seen by accident on board the Razor Crest. He's tried so hard to forget it, but the humanity of his voice brings it all back. He shouldn't think about that. Din's face is not meant for his eyes. Focus on something else. Focus on what Din is saying right now. Savor your good luck.

Corin recognizes some of the words Din mumbles out loud.

-My heart. -My beautiful love. -I love you.

It makes him dizzy with joy to hear Din say these words, it's beyond good luck, but there are other words that he doesn't understand.

_Mar... eyce?_  
_Jatne Manda._

Corin tries to burn them into his brain so he can look them up later.

_Riduurok._

And then... his name.

In that moment, it feels like there is no helmet between them.  
“Say that again?” Corin asks in a weak voice.

Din's helmet lifts and the t-visor focuses on him. “What?” He sounds dazed, like he had not been aware of speaking the words out loud.

“My name.” Corin says, feeling stupidly emotional. “Say my name again?”

Din takes a couple of breaths, as if needing to collect himself, and then his gloved hand cups the side of Corin's face and he says; “Corin.”

It's not like Corin hasn't heard Din say his name before, but somehow this sounds completely different. Din's voice is so... real. Deep, smooth and slightly raspy with desire. It's not the sound of a Mandalorian, it is the sound of a man. It is the sound of his love.  
His voice reaches out and slides across Corin's skin, caresses him, seeps into him...

Corin shivers. How can he be this lucky? He can't stop staring at the t-visor. “Again.”

Din pulls him back up on top of him and into a tight embrace. His strong legs comes up to cradle Corin. His t-visor presses against Corin's collarbone and he says his name again.  
It sounds intimate. It sounds... beautiful. Only Din can make Corin feel anything about himself is beautiful. Including his name. Only Din.

Overwhelmed, Corin shivers and gulps for air, tries to calm himself and finds that he can't. He's only held together by Din's arms around him. Driven by desperation, he manages to sneak one hand up and gently tugs at the fabric covering Din's neck. “Can I? Please? Please, Din, I... Can I?”

Din tilts his head and offers him free access. “Yes. Do it.” He sounds as eager as Corin feels.

Corin doesn't hesitate, pulls the fabric away and gets his mouth on that golden skin as if his life depends on it. It's been too long since he got to mark him. It tastes perfect as always, warm, salty and 'Din', and he sucks hard on it. His. Corin carries Din's pauldron, Din carries Corin's marks.

Din shudders helplessly, his arms tighten around Corin and he even gives a soft whimper.

Corin can't help it, has to rock against him, his own unsatisfied body begging for mercy.

Din lets out a sharp exhale and his fingers dig into Corin's back for a moment before they suddenly let go. Corin doesn't get the chance to wonder why before they are back and now the gloves are gone. Din's naked hands cover as much skin as they can reach with unrestrained adoration, his blunt fingernails digging into Corin's back, trying to pull him closer despite it being impossible.

The Beskar and the clothes deny them so much that what they are allowed to have feels amazing. And isn't that just the summary of their life together? The pleasure of what they are doing combined with frustration at being denied makes for a powerful mix that keeps building and a building...

Din reaches between them and undoes Corin's pants with some difficulty as Corin does nothing to help, merely keeps rolling against him. He eventually gets his hand on Corin's dick and caresses him. Stars above, the touch feels good, beyond perfect, makes the urgency grow even tighter, and then... 

“Corin...” Din's unfiltered voice says, a murmur close by Corin's ear.

That sound, his voice, is what makes Corin come. His back arches, his hips buck, while Din holds him tight and works him through it as wave after wave rushes through him. The bliss pulsates and throbs, growing impossibly strong, makes his vision white out for several seconds where everything is just bright and beautiful and Din and perfect and eternal, before it gently eases away and is replaced with a heavy weight of satisfaction. 

Corin means to tilt over on his side to take his weight off Din but he won't let him, so Corin merely sinks down on top of him and hopes he doesn't mind. His arms are just too weak to hold him up anymore. And he's so used to the feel of Din's armor that he barely registers it.

They both merely pant for air for a while, but eventually Corin turns his head to glance up at the helmet and wonders if that voice had just been a figment of his horny imagination. “Was that okay?”

Din snorts a drowsy laugh, his fingers lazily sliding up and down Corin's back. “More than okay.”  
  
Oh, wow, yeah, no, Din's voice is very real. And still so beautiful.

“Don't you think so?” Din asks.

Spellbound by the voice, thinking that Din's singing must be even more amazing without the filter, Corin gives a faint nod, before he remembers that Din can't see him from this angle without lifting his helmet and clears his throat with a faint sense of guilt. “Yeah. Well, I mean, now you're going to have to remove your armor anyway to get cleaned up, but, uh, yeah...”

Din's fingers halt their journey up Corin's back for a moment, then Din starts laughing out loud.

Corin grins and savors the sound. The laugh is contagious, melodious and feels like a warm hug. It is the sound of the gentle heart behind the Beskar.  
It is the sound of Din.

Corin probably has the most stupid love-struck expression on his face right now, but he doesn't care because he is in love and he doesn't have the words to tell Din just how much he loves him.

Maybe the Mando'a Din had used earlier can describe it better.  
What were those words again?

Something riddoor-someting?


End file.
